I have a page, Confessional Slam, where people can send me anonymous confessions and I turn them into poetry.  Here is the poem I wrote for the confession, "Everyone thinks I know everything about anything and ask me questions. But in reality, I don’t have a clue about anything. Everything I have done and said have been guesses since the beginning.”

With knowledge comes power,
Respectable and worn,
Battered from the soul,
Of an individual torn,
Between the answers to questions,
And the fact that he was born,
To know

Controlled by the complications of questioners unaware,
That he, himself, is riding on a dare,
A dare of which he must take,
Even though he, himself, is living up to his reputation’s sake

The answers have been guesses,
Masked with lace,
So delicate and fragile,
Mighty with a costume face

And although they’re only guesses,
They are powerful all the same,
As undoubted answers,
Because they give fame to his name