A Picture of Me as a Poet

To the boy in the mirror—
You’ve got the hair of two daises singing in the hay,
And that big [last name] nose.

Your eyes fly—a trapeze—when you’re reading
(Which is how you confused condoms for holy water).
The dialogue you write—you speak—you sing
So true to live you must hear voices. (You do.)

Your paranoia is so pretty when your doe-eyes
Open like they’re giving birth to fear—yours.
And your loyalty—you stick to your lovelies
Like the chewed gum hidden under the tabletops.

A top-notch actor—you are—you aren’t
A liar practiced in the art of truth.
We must reinvent love,

Signed: Yours Truly.
♠ ♠ ♠
Looking through stuff from my time in the psych ward, and look what I found!
We were prompted to write love poems to ourselves.