Riddles

and all the old me's

trapped and wrapped

in those tatty pages

all those old times

hand written, typed

or on a pc

the seconds

the ages

all the time i spent

jotting down a part of me

while not all of it’s

in writing yet

some of it will/can never be

i will rise to the challenge

as best i can manage

and i will scribble the rest

to make it so you can see

hunched over the latest version

of my word making machine

upholding my part of the deal

i strike while my irons hot

smithing words: fictitious and real

images harrowing and hurtful

i carefully choose what i will

and won't show

everything meticulously blended

so no one will ever know

and if i should slip

my moral bindings

prudence is a word

to bear in mind

because in my diggings

and shiftings of soils

just out and about

one never knows

what one

will find