what is behind my eyes

is no monster

but an uncouth creature

who does not understand its own nature

and so conceives a new one

to be known

is to be prey

in the length of my mirror

to hold my thoughts

on pen and paper

i hold them in contempt

when i wake up

every flame of rage

and of despair disapates

and pools somewhere far off

waiting to flood my mind

to be known

is to lay in my own grievances

and frustrations and pile them up

while asking someone to see it too

whatever i feel stays better with me

stored away for something worse

and so there is no knowing

between me and my feelings

and another who knows me