An Empty Note

I wish I had something to write about.

Or perhaps I do and don’t know how to express it.

Perhaps I can express it but am confused of who my addressee should be.

Or I probably know my addressee, but I’m unsure of what my audience will think about this.

I think I know what my audience’s reaction will be, however, I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.

I think I know I can face it, but then I’m beginning to think there’s a bit of confusion.

I’m actually sure there’s some confusion here.

The challenge before me is that my addressee is my audience.

Maybe it’s actually not a problem as I think.

But how do I make the world believe that I can’t answer the most answered question.

Or maybe it’s the most wrongly answered question.

Perhaps it’s only answered from the viewpoint of materialism.

Maybe I desire a better approach —

One that is not title-focused,

Neither is it audience-pleasing.

I sincerely desire to know:

Who am I?

So until I can put myself together,

This note remains empty.

Just as I am without an answer to who I really am.

Posted in: life, Poetry

Tagged as: , ,

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