Had I been
Had I Been
I woke up,
drenched in my emotions.
Had I been—
Had I been with a sinner,
I would have never questioned my sins.
Once a sacrosanct soul,
now a pillar of guilt.
I prefer to paint my own world,
rather than let anyone paint it—
and wash it away.
Had I been with a lover,
I would have never known
what it takes to love someone.
And in despair,
I was beyond repair,
for I have loved loneliness
as much as I have loved wilderness.
Had I been in love with my visage,
I would have never asked for opinions
to stitch my imperfections.
Had I been silent,
I would have never learned
how loud I could be.
But aren't we mere puppets
of our destiny?
Had I been a theist,
I would have never known mankind.
We have lost humanity
in search of individuality.
What are pronouns
when held against our nouns?
Well—
death is unknown,
so why don’t we make our love known?
Do you think life exists
beneath the green carpet?
So,
why don’t we smoke poems
and blow our minds?
Poetry is a realm—
a place where few belong.
A lot of them are in novels,
Veiled in characters.
It’s the disguise novels keep,
and poetry is naked.
Poetry speaks the unspeakable.
It lives in the spirit of the writer,
the vessel of their thoughts,
the ink of their veins.
Poetry is a madman toying with minds of men
And oh—
had I been a writer,
I would have chosen
to be drenched, time and again,
in words.
Copyright © Chiinmuankim Simte | Year Posted 2025
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