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THE SPECTATOR

I usually don't start my poems or spoken words piece with a note or any form of introduction. 
With this, I'll make an exception.
In every form of the word ‘exception’, this is different from others. 
This carries a treasure, one I hope you find.

It is RAW and REVEALING.
UNHIDDEN and FEELING.
I won't be hiding behind masks or pronouns, twisted expressions and distant metaphors.

No!

I am standing BARE as a newborn about to reach into a not so pretty part of me, unashamedly.
Actuely aware of my FLAWS 
and HOPEFUL.
Hopeful that the the one who is meant to be blessed by this would get it.
That these words would reach who it is meant for.





Here's to the beginning of,
THE SPECTATOR.


In His Grace,
Itan.
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