Feather Like
Obscure the souls
hidden deeply
within the type
and freeness of
duplicity.
We as feathers,
held in both hands,
Blown to the
wind as a dandelion
on a spring day.
Freeflowing identities,
Superhuman in design,
surrounded by pictures
reflecting an inner wish.
To be simple...
never...
Most complexity is obvious
to the touch of
Black and white letters
in reverberating beats
and speed,
flailing to the 'special' ones....
My Ass!~
Singing the praises
of a famished soul
And call me by name,
Would ya?
Wisped into the windstorm
you call friendship,
Carlessly tossed
into the trash.
And..
Just Dissapear..
.
Of a feather are we?
~~~CMT'00~~~