I often hide behind
The poetry I write
If you only knew
What I was going through

You might not come to grips
Or even come to like
This poet here
That keeps on fooling you

In and out of seasons
This reasoning of mind
Who's to say
What is false or true

Warmer comes the weather
Colder stays the heart
With straight face
No one has a clue

As I press pen to paper
In another roundabout
Way of making
Rhyming words for you

This whole time hiding behind
Theses simple words I write
Where no one has a clue
Of what I'm really going through