how vain you are!
why would you assume
I write about you?
all this abuse I pen
is always about me
I’m going to let you in on a secret.
Readers are all vain,
you all sit lofty on your reading thrones,
glasses at the tips of your noses,
worse still if you don’t wear glasses,
they sit on the edge of your nose,
invisible to you,
as a sign of magnification,
magnification of words,
our words amplified to your soul,
you assume they’re yours,
you assume the writer wrote them for you,
you pretentious fools,
we write for ourselves!
Everything! All of it!
Curses, soothing, unveiling faults,
hurt, love, anger, fiction, fact,
it’s always a reflection off the mirror of our core.
Think long about this.