Like the unwanted dust that settled on the shelf. I was brushed off into the air. Thanks for opening the window, at least. The specks of me in the air separate particles. No shape no form. Invisible until someone needs something to fixate on to further their dream. Life breathed into their necessity. No sentiment just a fleeting understanding. Gone once the lesson is complete. I try to escape this reality and I'm forced apart and loosely kept together like puzzled pieces in a bag, for others to play with.
It's not what you think it's what you believe. Patricia '96
No comments:
Post a Comment