There's a side you don't ever see,
ever read,
ever even know exists.
We hide it,
camouflaged, deep within'
and below the visible surface,
away from perusing eyes,
who couldn't begin to comprehend
such emotional reflection anyway.
Its the vulnerable innocence
of uncertainty and insecureness
we must protect,
with armor,
impenetrable,
from even the harshest critic's utterance.
Its where the darkness
and the light,
co-exist,
in a harmony
only we could understand.
Its the place where muse resides
in silent comfort.
The sanctuary where imagery
and thought are born
and words
are given first breath of life.
Its the one we safeguard,
the one we defend,
the one we shelter
from a society 'of the norm.'
Its the other side of a poet.