Isolated Pages

reckless thoughts roaming my brain 

 

I’m the same book all right

but I open a new page for everybody
each page so different , so unconnected from the previous, uncaring to be comprehendible
if I open one to you, you shall never know I could have a possible other page that varies so greatly from what I show you
and you can’t turn the pages until I let you
and even if you do you shall never understand
what the strings of seemingly meaningless ink means
for I show what you could possibly understand
I show you the emotions that’ll buzz in your mind saying ‘isn’t she like me?’
I’ll uncover delusional faux mysteries, that don’t even exist , that’ll make your brain whirr with a frustration and curiosity to unveil these nonexistent secrets of  mine
very few , de-code more than one page
and fewer, be able to connect them

“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

 

but right now I’m befuddled!!

I’m the same book alright?
but which page am I to myself??

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