Self. A poem by Celine Hawthorne

She hangs on my wall in a 3 foot frame.
Without glass protecting her
She hangs exposed to uninvited curiosity
From eyes unwilling to see her as she stands there without a name.

Behind dark glasses, her expression difficult to interpret,
Making me admire her unflinching stance.
Curious as to her circumstance.
Waiting to be heard she speaks through pursed lips, controlling her despair about to erupt.

There are times I sense her looking at me, without the protection of dark shades.
We connect with each other without words.
I wonder why she imprisons herself
In a three foot frame without glass
to keep her in.


I have always loved to read and write poetry.

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