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To say what could not be said

~~Play dot to dot
On your skin
Match up the lines
Of who you're
Supposed to be
Who you were
Join your freckles
Your scars
Your lines
Of dishonesty
And for once
In your life
Don't pretend

Every once
In a while
You read a line
On a page
And the words sing
For all writing
Is meant to be
Heard
And the sound
flattens
The edges
Softens
The corners
And puts you
In a place
Way back when
Before you were
Who you are
And you remember
And of that
And that
Alone
You should
Never
Forget

◄ Two score years and none

Tamed ►

Comments

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Anthony

Tue 20th May 2014 12:45

I didn't really think of it like that - the connection between truth and identity - but I think you capture my ideas perfectly in that very sentence

I was trying to point out that who we are is important - the 'who' we were before the world and experience tried to shape us into something else.

If that makes sense?

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Dave Bradley

Mon 19th May 2014 23:54

What an unusual poem. Compelling. How truth (?) and identity are connected (maybe?) with the body and how words that sing connect with it all. Perhaps.

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