Poezja

Lines flow in tidal waves
Unknowingly
In up and downward facing curves—
But they are not mine.

Thoughts drive in and outward—
Forcefully
Each with an appetite of its own,
Independently fulfilled.

Body succumbs to mind:
Enshrouded in darkness
As the bird, constrained,
dies in its cage.

I gaze onward, beyond;
Unaffected,
Lack of recognition denied.
Carefully reconfigured.

These lines are not mine.
I have gone.