Poems of Myself- Part 1

By Gideon

Today, as I come back from a period of not writing (I get busy in other things), I’m starting a series of poems that I wrote about what goes on in my head, what I feel and my observations about my life sometimes.



Who is so kind?
Who cares when all are cynics?
Who can free me from my bind?
Who does not mimic my enemies,
But scares with the love of a brother?
This is a friend, not just any
But the Superfriend!

I wake up only to discover,
That I’ve been smothered
By my end.

Who am I?

I go to the depths of my soul,
To find the eternally cold
Case that laces those

That know not the unsold

Thing that encases,

That is none but

The external material

Like a parasite

That’s out of spite;

So now I want to know,

The forever asked question:

Who am I?

Some live and die,

Never knowing the time

That defines,

That shapes the soul,

The answer to:

Who am I?

The Old Me


I once decree,

That the old me

Is sold,

Sold to that sack of gold;

Because, I’m poor,

Poor of soul.

Now, the cold

Is replaced with

This new found myth,

Of non-existent gold.

The treasure, I decree,

Is in the cure,

For a lost soul,

A soul that knows

Itself only.

Feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments below!