In quest to be truly known
we settle for a semblance,
self -- displayed
in facades of albums à la Instagram,
140 character statuses, and momentary fame.
Begging for acknowledgment
in likes of
adulation for this manufactured
image self-created,
Perhaps some truth
lies mirrored there.
In html- armour,
neatly packaged for the hordes.
There is no guarantee
that meeting face-to-face
and touching this soul-in-flesh
to hear real-tongued words
is the real naked me - truly known.
Both are parts of me, and yet not, and are.
©eleanor clark
13 December, 2012
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