By: Johnny Gardner
What I write is supposed to explain me
But to limn is to betray me; how I portray my life,
Revealing me, for who I am underneath.
The sides of me most would never see, but believe.
I look through two dirty window pains, trapped
As a prisoner in solitary confinement.
Only I choose to be confined,
Only I choose to be contained,
Only I choose to stay away from the others.
Quite quiet, actually, silent.
What people would call cruelty or malice, I call love.
I let it flow through me like my emotions,
Only I release one, not the other.
Then a hummingbird flew by my windows
And my heart turned pure, showing me the way,
The way I could be kind and care that I had kept buried
Beneath my straight face, next to my heart and soul.
If you want to read me, you just have to ask, but
In order to know me, you must understand one
Extremely crucial detail.
Everything I do depends on you.