here's a poem of sorts that I wrote. Comments, serious and otherwise, are welcome.
No one can know
where my heart really is;
who I really am;
what I really want.
No one can know what you want either.
Your desires are all secret:
Kept away next to your heart,
hidden under a rock
in a parallel universe
somewhere in eternity.
We must all keep ourselves hidden,
for speaking spreads temptation and ignorance.
Beauty does not even reach our skin;
It does not touch the surface of our being.
Beauty has to be buried and encrypted and secreted.
When I tried to show the world the things underneath my rock,
it simply pushed the rock back down effortlessly
without so much as a peek.
The world wants none of me, but I want all of it.
How can I have all of the world--all of life
without what's hidden away?
How can anyone know beauty without what's hidden away?
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