Journal
I have never methodically journaled before.
I have only ever just played with words, rhymes, metaphors, and riddles.
Jotted as a collective, only I really know the origin or understand the meaning.
Sure the world could lay eyes upon my hands wanderings ,
poetry is open to the individual no true criticism or judgement could ever be cast.
This is where I have hid, safe within my projected illusions.
So why now do I betray my own carefully constructed defenses?
Allowing for brief moments a glance in?
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