Self- analyzing

Written by: George Zamalea

I wrote this poem five minutes ago
And five minutes later  I was just wondering what happened
In my head to write this particular poem

Why does this poem really?
Why I did not write a short story or a Bio
When the heroine is  having a monster babe
Or my Mother as a whore by the time I was 12?

What was inside my head that made me to create
It into a format most of us do not dare to cross?
Could be different if I’ve been drawn
A phallus on a black sheet and burned it under my feet? 

Like this:

	The moon peers between
	My hairs toward the shadows
	And by the black clouds
	This motion wasn’t in my hands.

I know … I know…
I am thinking now more that a fool
Than a man dying with pain.