I don't know how to be professional,
To keep my feelings out of what I do.
I make my life one vast confessional
So that the mass emotion that I spew
Takes over everything I otherwise
Might constitute my reputation on.
I give expression to my inmost cries
In places where such words have never gone.
So everyone I meet knows my whole mind,
And often wishes it remained unknown,
While those who see me wish that they were blind
To not observe my feelings, overgrown.
I cannot find a way to keep in touch
With who I am, and yet not share too much.
No comments:
Post a Comment