Thoughts
on Poetry
All they see is an empty wall,
A door and a window ajar.
Creepin’ inside my soul,
All these invisible thoughts.
Thinkin’ I know all of them,
They think I’ve some unknown power.
Being cursed with the knowledge,
I know their rawest form.
An abstract sense of meaning,
In knowing nothing at all.
To feeling the intense chaos,
To being quiet at the core.
Of all these fluctuations in my world,
The perspectives that arise.
Fall from my fractals of the parallel world,
That resides inside my thoughts.