Is It Poetry
To The Hidden
Without a nimble corpse,
to cross the narrow river with.
A child I see resist the urge to play
with staffs and Styx.
I resist the urge to be found out myself.
Out in the open
a source I offer to them all.
To be hidden.
Inside them all except for.
To isolate them all away from me.
Lest they consult among'st a mystery.
I have had experience being
locked within the jar.
Must my crown,
I am and more than simple beautiful.
I've had to hide myself covered in only you.
The grass and islands cover more than you.
The open-source of one that you hold dear.
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Comments about this poem (To The Hidden by Is It Poetry )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
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