Some try to define me without truly knowing me.
Some make their judgments based on what they see.
They say I’m quiet and shy.
What they don’t find
are the worlds locked inside my mind.
The conquests of kingdoms when I’ve stopped evil in its tracks.
Seeking and discovering treasure, risking my life to save others.
All the happenings in my soul, the stories hidden within
stay guarded by sealed lips, are kept private by silence.
When the build up of secrets is too much to bear
my pen becomes a weapon, for my words must be shared.
I vent out my heart and feel a release;
I can go back to my quietness, my mask of peace.
Will I always keep myself hidden? Will I always wear this mask?
I can’t predict the future, I can’t say whether or not it will last.
I see a crowning jewel finding its rest in a treasure chest of dying blue.
Others see a sunset.
I see a kingdom of fragile dancers dressed in rich green, swaying with an invisible partner.
Others see grass.
I see a thick white curtain standing in the gap between us and undiscovered worlds.
Others see clouds.
They limit life’s magic, making judgments based on their eyes’ intellectual witness.
They try to define me, make me see the universe as they want me to.
I am undefined;
I am not contained.
The words of my heart
cannot be restrained.
I am a warrior, a knight, a dragon, a queen;
I am a mother, a daughter, a peasant, a king.
I am a villain, a hero, a ghost, an outcast;
I am loud, quiet, the present and the past.
I, as a writer, am undefined.
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