In my presence with a blank stare,
Venture where no one would dare,
Yet, gone like wind, life is half as fair.
Arms stroking further down,
Where paddles never met
ground,
Where ironically It isn't to be found.
There it is!
Aye, it is!
Mine, it now is!
You are stripped of air!
Flip back-round towards the glare!
Paddle, flippered feet, be that fair.
You reach the surface only to note,
Not in a boat;
But afloat.
My power set you free
But for a fee
For all the air from thee.
YOU ARE READING
Perspective
Short StoryThe world changes though what we see, but it looks much different from a pair of eyes that aren't our own. When reading keep in mind that the speaker may not be who you think he or she is, may not even be a who.
