Who is the me that writes? (A Noir-ish Poem for Day 9)
The rain is falling oh so fast
and it feels like time is slipping past
‘cuz my reflection in the looking glass
who is the me that writes these words?
a mother, daughter, wife
& are you friend or foe?
i never know
who to trust on the roads of life
beware the ides of march, they say
but what of april late?
who knows what chaos will ensue
when we’re driven to create