Contradictions

I didn't know until 

just in time.

This pen wielding 

mendacity makes out of control contradictions.

In fits of rage. 

In stacked stones.

The slightest breeze

out on the ledge

hoping that nobody's looking.

Dragging on from

jagged steps to 

natural slides of how 

I need to confide. 

I want to be read!

Where are the uneducated?

Free them with my love! 

Withering me,

my own words choke down and dangle before the 

mind on the street. 

The words are water of

wizened memory stones.

Not necessarily true.

Perhaps all I've got 

but the emotion. 

I didn't know until 

just in time.

That I was the poverty

and all I had to do 

was really know instead 

of hope and all the magic

happens in you and me

and the heart of the sun.