Poetry

I speak in
blue,
To say what is true,

To reality I face up,
With words to stand up,

To kiss the skies with these hand,
Is just a lie to where I stand,
In dreams,
I’m the king,
On my throne the angel sing,
In truth,
opposes the dream,
Nothing more, but a poor gleam,
I take the door and leave a thought,
Am I worthy, am I not.