If the girl who draws
Let's you look over her shoulder,
If the poet
Smiles,
Then shows you her words ,
If the boy who sings in the shower only,
Hums a song in front of you,
Know that you're no longer a person ,
But the air,
And the dust,
That fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
And all things cease to exist ,
You'll remain inside an ink stain.
A paint brush .
A song.
