Behind the Pen

I really like this one.

Cynical Wordsmith

My voice invariably changes
From one day to the next.
My voice, my own,
Is an untrustworthy
And fickle thing.
Not because it lies,
Or manipulates the weak
(Though those may be true),
But because the emotions
Behind the words
Are filled with imperceptible nuance
And are never the same
As feelings I’ve known.

Do you feel me from my voice?
Do you know who I am today?
Are feeling lost and being lost
Semantics or something else?

What does a flower
In a photo
Smell of?
Who is the man
Sitting behind the pen?

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