Pardon my self-aggrandizement
in the existential exposé of my life
for what i have to offer you today
is naught
but melancholy which percolates
my spirit with a constant test of my stoic resolve

I thought that i had given up emotion
buried the empath in me
5 feet under
until poetry reared it’s ugly head
and exposed me

As a mage of words
filling my glass up
till i couldn’t see how empty it was
on the inside

I had grown too comfortable in this specious skin
that i added layers to draw
a truth that resonated with you
in ways it never will with me

And now i stand here
as a pseudo-intellectual
undressed in public by simplicity;
chained to my reality
for once i am bereft of pretty answers

[ A.G. Diedericks: “‘write what you know’ are the four most soporific
words I’ve ever heard. I…