I want to hide
in shadows to ponder
or pace, a caged animal
to discover the real me.
Amazing, instead of one,
I appear to be a menagerie.
I play with people like kittens,
fun, carefree, but in defense
I scratch with claws of a beast.
Stalking, a panther on dark nights;
watching; on the prowl, curious.
I use all senses for my delight.
I can be mild as a lamb.
Then when attacked,
I can't understand.
Why when I pass a mirror,
a strange collage of faces
stare back at me?
Who is this creature
that talks and walks in my skin?
Who chatters like a monkey,
and invites no one in?
Perhaps, I don't need to know.
Better to leave it alone.
There is always the artist
who is never lost.
Then I am Queen of my palace.
I know "The Mighty Poet"
who captures words from the air.
She performs magic for fans
a special audience that do care.
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