I AM NOT YET FOUND
Maybe it's the time of the year
but nothing brings me cheer and
I am not yet found (out). I stand
like any other. I do not yet even
understand how much of this
is just in my head alone. What
id the make-up of this life?
-
I walk a rainbow that disappears
as I step. Rainbows can do that,
as can ephemera, rumor, myth,
and deceit - all together, and
sometimes in the same rotten
bag we carry. We drag?
-
I am not yet found out, but
what can that mean? Miming
is soundless, but is a scream
then heard by all? Or need I
ask old Edvard Munch?
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