Passion & the Plago

And what if none of my poetry
was mine...
How would that feel?

Would I be angered
because I wasn't the first
to write down someone else's
combination of words
which in the reading
I'd so admired?

Would I be jealous,
frantically justifying sin
to impress a lover
by dishonest pretence?

Would I lie awake nights
wondering if the real author
might one day discover
I was a fraud
haunted by a terrifying secret?

Would I become ill
disfigured by guilt
hating my face in the mirror
for as long as I lived?

No, no, no & no,
if I were a plago
I'd probably just laugh--
but then all I'd know
was how to read