Maybe I'm just too private
of a person,
that my rage is set on
fire at these hearsays
about the chambers under
my bed.
Maybe I like living my
life in one big paper bag of secrecy,
that travellers’ suitcase
without a key,
just to at least hold on
to
and fully own my truth,
Because sometimes I truly
enjoy being
this bundle of mystery
that even I still try to
uncover in vain