Who Am I Really

Who can imagine it all
Yet has none of it
Who hurts all the time
And can never rest except in pain

Who has the reddest blood
With the deepest heart which oozes
Who wishes they never knew love
As they glimpse love all the time

Who knows many things
Yet professes to know nothing
Who dreams of softness
With no pretence

Who goes out
But wishes they stayed in
Who stays in
And wishes wishes were real

Who hates the dark
Yet visits over and over
Who aches for the light
Yet curls tighter than the tightest thing

Who writes these weepy sonnets
And yearns to escape
Who knows not where
Escape is

SH November 2008