Enigma
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"I don't get you. You are like an enigma." He said.
she replied, "I would agree, its really not hard to be an enigma.
It's easy. I just be myself- without really knowing who that is.
They pass by without a clue, Few have tried to see the truth,Those who have tried may see some,But I always know the outcome:Frustration,Curiosity,Constant interrogation,Or maybe they just give up. I love it when they try to see,When they look in
The arrival of the enigma,
Bestowed my contemplations,
Through the neat,
And the knot,
Do you feel the numbers now ?
The numbers we once didn’t know of?
I ask not ,
I state not,
I am that poor girl
whose waning hope
gave birth to passion
Or perhaps I am a pupeteer
with a marionette by the name of
"Semantics"
Some days I am the crisp morning drizzle
My life is an enigma
My everymove, and thought is a riddle
I am an unsolved puzzle
I am an enigma
I am a mystery
but one day this riddle would be left in history.
Its that drip of sweat that's stuck on his neck
slowly making its way down to the bed
My head lays calmly relaxed
But my mind is in a wind and a fuss
Am I doing enough?
Should I touch?
Whenever I attempt the act of relaxation, In the forefront of my mind there is always a slight hesitation.
We try to extract a meaning
Yet that meaning is not concrete
It is shrouded in ambivalence
And leaves us in defeat
Poetry is hidden
Its nature is enigmatic
Those who attempt to interpret it
