As
if im stepping on withered leaves
the
sound made from the touch of my feet
sent
chills to my body
and
sadness to my soul
I felt
like crying for some may say, as nothing
on
evenings and bouts such as this
this
is not elevation of something
but
the anions are reacting
on
ephemeral senses I float
like
a feather in my bed
at
times when Im with the world
iI
feel like an insect in an amber
I
am displaced , I am misplaced
find
me on the farthest end of the poles
find
me mister
this
is another day in the pit
that
I can never be sweet
maybe
maybe the moon has it
or
the eyes just failed to see
yes,
they were stung by a bee
only
known to me...