Unlike my face
Showing its wrinkles
Unlike my body
Displaying its scars
Unlike my life
Revealing my failures
My words are ageless
My words are genderless
My words are sexless
They are just black letters
On a white screen or a page
Night after night in ink
I pour my soul indiscriminately
You think you know me
But it is all a lie
Truthfulness is only an illusion
Spontaneity does not exist
Art is artificial.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
From my blog:
echoingsteps.blogspot.com.au
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