Upon the plain walls of my life,
there hangs a portrait. It is a good likeness.
And behind it, set into the discoloured patch
on the wall. Is a blank space.
And set within that blank space, is a secret safe.
Where I, have locked myself away.
And no one, would even begin to suspect,
that the portrait may not be me.
And that I, may be hidden behind it.
Sitting quietly alone, inside the 'safe'.
Written for Poets United Thursday Think Tank prompt #57 - Alone/Loneliness