It’s All About (persona)

It’s all about the fantasy

we imagine

the roles we play

to flatter.

It’s all about the lies

we device

to convince the world

we exist.


Quarter Past Noon

At quarter past noon, in a hospital room,

there I was born, no big bang, no boom.

I’m sure pain was involved and tears were cried;

can’t say I remember or I would say I lied.

Beginning then and ending when

this life of mine starts and ends.

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,

time seems to speed up and then its delayed.

Time has been a master and a slave;

time has been a roadblock and a fresh pave.