The questions asked amidst friends,
The confusion of interpretation that never ends,
They won't understand why,
I don't push because they try.
Understanding, may come from what they may think they know, judging by the limited knowledge, that they have been provided by me. A passage way into my soul, to show who I am, but not what I am made of. Knowledge! Besitched to you through me, me who only knows me and no other, for the knowledge that comes from the other is just mere... I acknowledge you want to understand, but wanting may not be enough to understand. The need, the crave for my secrets, don't you understand it may be for the best, for you not to know, who, I, am... I do not follow the mere rules because I show, who I am. I show this through the misdeminor that is me, that is how I write, that is I... I say this because it is My Poem, melody written by I.
