Just when I think

I've known the world

I come to the realization

That I've only seen it

Through my own two eyes.

It eats at me

Though I shouldn't be bothered

And yet

I can't help but wonder why.

What do strangers see

When they watch my favorite film

And what do they hear

In their favorite songs?

What do others girl feel

When they knowingly fall in love

With someone

Who's stringing them along?

What do my parents know

When they look at the roads

They've walked down

Many more times than I?

What do babies think

When the world's so unknown

And they can only use their voices

To cry?

Where is the truth

In others' opinions

So very different from mine?

Where lies the inspiration

Of other writers

As they steadily type

Each line?

In the end

There's not much of a point

Unless reincarnation exists.

But frustration prevails

Knowing my eye's the limit

And my curiosity

You see

Persists.

I sit down at my desk
Placing trust in these keys
My world comes alive
As blood surges through me

Every letter I punch
Each stanza I create
Transfers a piece of my heart
Across this paper--my stage

An audience who relates
Commending acts of my play,
But never a witness behind scenes
To an emotionally intoxicated Hemingway

For the performance you see
Is my truth and it takes toll,
But reliving memories while writing
Is worth touching my readers' beautiful souls

© JL Smith

yet, still, I wonder
what it takes for us to travel
from a place of false contentment
to a place of honest bliss.
one day soon,
hopefully, I'll find that out.