So-called well-read yet
I can't read between each line
or it work out until much later
what hides in their breaks-
so frustrated and in a fit of shame
seeing how long I had been mistaken
I took my old notebook
and cracked its spine
but still, I keep on writing
uselessly about a fear without a name.
that I can't explain, and I wish
this writing were not really mine.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
So-called well-read yet
I can't read between each line
or it work out until much later
what hides in their breaks-
so frustrated and in a fit of shame
seeing how long I had been mistaken
I took my old notebook
and cracked its spine
but still, I keep on writing
uselessly about a fear without a name.
that I can't explain, and I wish
this writing were not really mine.
Request permission to use this poem