Am I a fraud?
Sometimes I wonder
Am I not as complex as I seem?
Softer,more vulnerable,more scared…
Masks fall accidentally and break, and I replace them,with more masks of insecurity
I tell people I am what I think they would like to hear I am ,
But when the sun sets and the window are shuttered and the lights are low…I ask myself sometimes…How many times did I lie…to myself…today?
And in the orange candlelight,I look across the mahogany table,as the pen slowly rises and writes firmly and yet,strangely across the parchment
the words form,slowly,but boldly,and when the pen has finished,it settles itself beside the parchment.
” In becoming a writer, you have to shed many masks,and when they fall,let them shatter and let who your really are,be seen.You have to search for freedom and simplicity. You must stop being a fraudster, to yourself”.