I would like to share a poem I wrote for a story I’ve been working on for some time and this poem is based on my character who’s on a self discovery journey, from his point of view:
The truth is far, far in a midnight void, a January rising storm fills the empty darkness. On a November’s evening it’s only the beginning. Truth can mean many things, it’s the opposite of dishonesty and I knew in my heart something wasn’t right, my self identity. Our individuality is something that can’t be destroyed or our sense of morality, the good and the bad defines humanity. The truth is like a curtain, opens and closes, a secret should be decoded. We often underestimate the ability of ourselves, sometimes we’re caught up in our thoughts feeling overwhelmed. A season’s end, the rise of December, I wished to see something I truly am to remember. It’s the end of November. Winter and fall, the season’s change like a human being, am I truly living?