Oftentime I feel lonely and can only write poems that are full of symbols and simile or prose that are full of metaphors and hidden codes.
It's so lonely to see something others don't.
But if I’m given the other around (not seeing what I’m seeing), I won’t want.
Yet it's at the same time a blessing.
I can only enjoy my journey as it is my journey alone, not others and can’t be bear by others and won’t be on behalf of others. It’s just me walking on my path and me only on my path.
Only you,
And you only
That's with me.
I can understand how people misunderstand someone and they call one crazy or daydreaming or dreaming or exaggerating or boasting or anything in the same shade of the impression that one is full of shits just because the “shits” are misunderstood. This person won’t have many friends; even with the very few friends, one would still can’t tell what one can and can’t tell.
It used to be difficult yet now it’s becoming more relaxing and calming to be someone hidden behind misunderstood realities. How beautiful to be misunderstood–
The eyes see,
The ears hear,
The nose smells,
The tongue tastes,
The skin feels,
The lips are sealed.
Life is just like that: beautiful, & romantic yet quiet & mysterious.
rike jokanan 