There is something present inside me,
that cannot be falsified.
I do admit as my younger self ,
I pushed it right down inside.
What was inside kept hidden away,
I would never let come out.
Eventually giving into it,
on realising what life was about.
I’m open now,
I can’t help myself, I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Those who know say I always was,
the toughness make-believe.
I can’t keep it in if I’m feeling it,
to do so would just be to deny.
Before I know it’s out of my mouth,
I sometimes ask myself why.
In writing I’m told I’m vulnerable,
in showing myself to you.
But what the point of writing,
if your saying what’s not true.
I talk of love, the purpose of life,
of what it means to me.
In my writing I show honesty,
it’s what I want you to see.