Seeking me
with each scribbled word
a mystery unfolds
titled, Me.
Each day presents perspectives
long thought but discarded
for they did not appear worthy of
ink from a worn out pen.
Silent confessions leaked out
life, death lived
pictures developed over years
not once snapped by me.
Strings on a beaten guitar
played changed between tears
but eventually remained, sadly
the same each time your name
drifted out with tune.
Still, seeking me
permitted this to be arranged
perhaps from heart, perhaps brain
but always the same
playing out of a sand trap.

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