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The Sonnet of Identity
July 27, 2010
All is cold when you are outside yourself.
Feeling as if you are in an ice block.
Always felt you have been put on a shelf.
Without the key to your personal lock.
Wishing you had a friend to confide in.
Knowing how hard it is simply to be.
Never knowing you have always had kin.
Hard to believe not knowing what to see,
That there is more to this life than the pain.
You can shake the cold and become the warmth.
Suddenly realizing you are your bane.
You can allow your true self to come forth. Somehow, somewhere a warm house awaits you.
Happiness comes as you realize you flew.
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