Buried In Ink

I had made a precarious claim that what riddles inside me, a shrunken ghost, never sees a mirror to even know what it looks like. I am the bottled news floating down the sea, however it would be terrifying if I were to ever reach land and for the cork to be popped. I would be read, unaware of what I say. Something beautiful, perhaps rotting clay which once was a vase to sitting ash. Here within these pages stand lines of feeble dreams creeping out of my mind to this white case that holds everything I have ever wanted to say. I am not a person of purity and good intentions, yet I know the words I wish to speak to people who listen....Here is my next poetry book.  By author, Novalee Burkett.