You write much poetry

So precious, you dare not speak your name

You played so many songs

So melodious that you hid behind it


I wish to know the soul of the written

The symphony behind the masterful melody

The story behind the poetry


I dare not speak thy name

I dare not use it

Too many are thy praises

Too much is bestowed upon thee


Yet you hide from all this glory

To mask the pain that started it all

The phantom of the book

Who dare not say…



Who art thee?


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