I've often tried,
but always failed,
to capture myself
in my poems.

But some bits
and pieces of
me would still
find their place
in between the
strange words.

Often when I look
at the white pages,
blue strangers stare back.
Although they make sense,
I know they are not 'me'.

So I've made blue
my favourite colour,
and tried to know,
how, what and who they are.

(They are all that I could be,
and all that I never was.
Some good, some bad;
some tragedy I'll never see.)

I've never been
afraid of hollowness,
over-feeling on the other hand,
terrifies me to the bone.

When I read poems
that are dedicated,
I feel the emptiness of mine.

When I write poems,
I like to sit in silence
and be alone,
but loneliness
accompanies me too,
and not the one where
I need someone to be with ,
but the one where my words
feel lacking something.

So I fill them up with
some half-understood metaphor,
and hope no one notices.

I've 'made' Blue
my favourite colour,
but in my heart,
Yellow will always
be my favourite.

I've written ninety-five
poems to be exact,
but this, will always
be the most honest.

Kinda fiction/ Kinda true

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