By Benjamin Shapiro
What am I?

Words written on blank screens,

Whispers sent out into streams,

Rivers of voices turned to screams,

A whisper of forgotten dreams?
What am I?

A father raising little girls

Born into an angry world

Teaching them to twist and twirl

Avoiding bombs being hurled?
What am I?

A man who sees beauty beneath,

The ugliness that men bequeath

To each other, causing grief,

For there’s heav’n in a dying leaf. 
What am I?

I am all these things and more

A thousand masks I have wore

Scholar, poet, lover, whore,

Everything, but at my core

Are a body, mind, and soul that soar.


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