What if this world is just automated?
All have certain direction that the author had directed
The flower's dancing, the wind's whisper, the touch of your skin, and my smiles
Then I would thank the director, for pulling me to you from miles to mile
What if, I'm just an illusion? You're the only who can see me
Can feel the sun, but the sun can't feel me, the cat surrounds but never purred in my existence
Just like how I'm capable but my incapability is capable for others
But I would still thank my invisibility, because of it, you saw what everyone cannot see
What if?
Your what if is true?
What's the what if that bothers you?
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
AlteleFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
