Maybe I am not the person written
among these one-liners and musings.
Maybe I am the person of thousand revolting
thoughts which fought a war on my dead skin
and then later slept in the larynx of my throat,
always giving me a sensation to puke them out
in form of pulchritude vocabularies.
I open my mouth wide and hover my lips on
the rectangle of my keyboard, but nothing comes out.
Instead, I am left with a heavy feeling gripping
itself on the edges of my heart.
'Let me cage you
in the form of words,
so that you can forever fly.
Just don't stay inside me in a way
which daily reminds me that there are
things and thoughts I can't put into
sensitive bubbles of words'
I whisper in the ears of those revolting
A writer's voice.
Wanting to influence yet another thing to
rest in the lap of metaphors.
But you see
One can't cage something which has caged them only.