sometimes i wish
that i could start
all of this over in
total anonymity,
wish i could write
all of these poems
without a person
knowing who put
words to pages.
i wish i could go
back to 2017 and
try again, but have
no one know that
i’m the one writing.
wonder what i would
get to write then, if
others would start
reading my poems
for the mystery, and
if anyone would even
figure out the mystery
of the man behind the
blog, putting out such
honest, heartbroken
thoughts and poems.
i’d be like slater, i’m
happy harry and i’ll
pump up the volume,
scream out my poems
loud and proud, but a
soul won’t know who’s
behind those screams.
carve out my own little
private piece of life, i’d
just be another person
going about his day, but
with some great mystery.
wish i could’ve tried that.
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