But Who Am I


My pen is obsessed with love lately, love and all its many miseries and mysteries
For something I know so little about, I speak quite assuredly
I sure do write like I’ve been there before
But who am I to say it was love?
I’m just a nobody with a pen and paper scribbling down my no-account accounts
Of imagined love, real love, and love I can’t touch
Sometimes of a love I can only dream of
But who am I to say it was love?

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