The audacity is staggering,
Enraged ego makes me laugh.
Why do you think it is yours,
When common fantasy I craft?

I write for me, myself, and I,
And often, for another.
But I too write for audience,
To give them chills and shudders.

I pull emotion from my heart,
And feeling from my past.
Sometimes I will write in truth,
But stories are told in final draft.

I love to mess with the mind,
Confuse and frustrate readers.
I don't want you to know the meaning,
And I don't want you to know me either.

Leave the ego and assumption behind,
I rhyme for for art and applause.
It hones my skills for further use,
Sharpening poetic claws.

Even this is not what you think,
If you know me you'll understand.
This is a cryptic verse,
From the beginning planned.

So read on with a grain of salt,
Be wary as you go.
Many of my works are true,
But which you'll never know.