I was recently accused of being two faced and dishonest to myself.... this is a poem that grew from it.....
The body, a cage; of bones and tissue,
Merely a vessel to carry the soul,
Inside each are many people,
A Caring one, an honest one,
An angry, happy or selfish one,
Bigoted, sly, sometime a darn right rude one,
Racist, emotional, straight, gay,
Immature, sensible, perverted,
It’s inside that we are many.
The mind, a sponge; filled with who we are,
What we see, taste, smell, hear and feel,
A maze of memories, some lost, some buried,
Pigeon boxes filled with thoughts unopened,
For fear of which person may evolve from their content,
Filters working full time separating the rights and wrongs,
Dams blocking, suppressing floods of raw emotion,
That could flood and fill the chambers that are locked,
Chambers that determine which person we choose to be.
The heart, our own Pandora’s Box; barely open,
Just a scrape of what it holds, is ever seen,
The same box however, that every person inside of us shares,
An angry heart, caring heart, honest and selfish heart,
A box so tightly packed, that one false emotion,
One wrong person, Could start a fatal chain reaction,
Each link connecting to the next, from heart to brain to body,
Endless people filling up the soul, yet not one; is able to function,
One becomes many, a sarcophagus of truth and lies.
The spirit, the polygraph; the core of which person we choose,
Transport to carry the person we never new,
The one that hides in our darkness,
Awake, while the rest sleep,
Absorbing each person we become,
Removing the ones that we are not,
Yes the spirit is the real person inside,
Yet will remain unknown to us,
As it lives, when we do not.
Interesting and thought-provoking poem... the shadow parts hold power too