My only reason
For putting pen to paper
And giving words to thoughts
Is so I have an excuse
To selfishly talk about myself
Without guilt or shame.
Disguised, with subtlety,
In every ‘he’ and ‘she’
Is a small fraction of me
That is visible to those
Inquisitive enough to try
And keen enough to observe.
But you must never,
Under any circumstance,
Take my words and phrases
In all their literal seriousness
For the only way I express
Is through exaggeration,
Without my hyperboles
I feel underwhelmed
And unjust towards the
Thoughts and emotions,
The pieces of myself
That I am trying to divulge,
I believe them to be
So much beyond mediocrity
That I forget what it is
To be a rational describer.


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