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Poetry: The Truth About Myself
This is a glass of wine
Empty.
Drops that remain to be a sign
That lips have tasted me.
The truth about me is a facade, i think,
A code encoded with a missing link.
The rest is a mystery shrouded in white
That opens a daylight chapter at night.
This is all there is about me:
A Protestant in a Catholic feast
Baptised in a forsaken sea;
Only to pray to an idol, a prince of the East.
Leonell
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2 comments
Kristen
December 2, 2017 at 2:06 pm
Wow!
leon
December 3, 2017 at 8:11 am
I said the same thing too. Thanks for stopping by, Kristen