who are you?

I search the darkness of my mind
memories over time
depths of the deep sea blue

I have no clue.

I am blind
and do not see
the girl in the mirror
who stares back at me.

I am not she.

on my tombstone
it shall read
a stranger
who was everything people
wanted her to be.

Even in death,
that is not me.

Uncertainty has become my enemy,
insecurity I wore until the end----- beautifully.

Poetry isn't about rhyming words....
Its all about rhyming emotions

The moon is now bright and full
showering silver romance,
to the leaves of tree so dull.

A cricket humming his chants
deep in meditation behind
the dark unknown shrub's branch.

Somewhere in a nest, a hatchling can't sleep
letting out feeble hunger cries
her mother did not fetch enough to feed.

While on my walk, I see those eyes
hiding behind a trunk, peeping
I assure it safety, I know may be lying

Night is the time for them to be,
struggling to enjoy independence and security
this unending night leading them to the unknown
what will remain I wonder at the crack of dawn.

i feel like:

a violin string
unprepared for pizzicato
plucked too sharply

the skin of a drum
after ten thousand songs
beat too hard

a piano wire
awaiting the strike
strung too taut

the singer's throat
called for an encore
too hoarse to scream

he eats an orange
every night
before going
to bed

early morning
fades into
the stagnant
ache of summer
he waits

the pitted reflection
of the kitchen window
parts like skin
along the edge
of his knife