I told you I hated
so many things
so many arts of value
and I did it to protect myself
explaining this is quite complicated
for when I read poems
I don\'t just read them
they call out to me
they seek out my weaknesses and explore my failings
in every word I feel not what the author felt but rather a private message
inscribed in each letter
in each brushstroke
in each movement
meant only for me
reaching up from the heart they pierce grasping at tear ducts
and again I am weak
arts reveal
they expose
in them comes a comfort but also a vulnerability
one I can\'t yet face
a self
a reflection I don\'t want to see
me
I\'m confronted with all the versions of myself I\'ve hidden so deeply
and again I pronounce
I hate them
for in arts I see not the beauty within but rather the pain
unpresentable versions
of selves I\'m not yet ready to meet