How great you were
but I only realised it
when you were dead,
it’s there in the pages
you left behind
that no one read.
Your mind
was such a brilliant tool
but you hid it away
by acting the fool.
Not wanting to share
your thoughts and words
in case they would be
treated as absurd.
Your voice you spared
from overuse.
instead in these pages
your thoughts were produced.
Reading them now
I recognise the real you
instead of the one who pretended
not to have a clue.
The secrets you kept
from every living soul,
the poems you wrote
with intentions to console.
Now in these books
your thoughts can see the light
and maybe they will
give inspiration
to those who wish to write.
