Wil Halstead, Poet

I feel the corruption
Of the lies I tell myself
Seeping into my bones

You are not enough
You are not genuine
Not real
They can all see right through you
They know your secrets
They don’t believe your lies

But I do
I believe every word
Every syllable

Every scratch on my soul
Is a wound I’ve given

Train track of my life
Single track stretches backward
infinite forward

#haikufeels #prompt #train

How do you share your soul on a platform where anyone can be anyone and someone can be no one and so even the likes or simple acts of linguistic applause feel like a mimicry of human behavior instead of the genuine interaction?

Hide my thoughts away
Too frightening for most people
I'll stick to wise cracks

#haikufeels #prompt #hide

The children practice
so as adults they may soar
someone else's goal

#haikufeels #prompt #practice

I would happily live out my days on a lily pad

Wow, people are following me back
What a rush that single moment of acceptance brings
I could get addicted to this

Most people come into this world kicking and screaming
I just woke up one day and I was here
I have a lot of kicking and screaming to catch up on

Three hundred characters
my allowance for conveying thought
each word precious, examined
truncated when it gleams loquacious
pared to fit, shaved, whittled down
until its sharp point can pierce the soul of the reader
leave a mark that will linger for all eternity
an arrow of three hundred characters

I'm getting things set up, getting a feel for things here. I promise I'm a real person.

At least I hope I'm a real person.

Who can tell anymore?