the bukowski

i only play along
lines of bull whispered to me
i repeat them, though
i know i don’t belong
have they figured it out yet?

did i come across a thief
or someone who stole a glance
at the inside of my purse
and saw the piles of masks
i carry with me everywhere i go?

i know who i should be
but who i am remains a mystery
maybe someone will call me on it
someone who knows more
– can i be a whole?

no wonder they leave me
walls and forgeries are never popular
with people it seems
one they tore down
the other they banned
What will they do to me?