it started as what
And then why to how
Are you
What is this
And why is this to me
What were you in
Place
To let me be
Feeling like a whale on drugs
The electricity
Feeling like a tiger on steroids
The pumping blood in the head
It is I who eats the bees
And they buzz within me
Hallowed the sky and filled it
With bones
That it rained calcium all day long
It was the snails that painted
The scars on the sun
And burned it alight
A campfire in the cosmos
The ants that buried Atlantis
In sand
It was the birds that stole the moon
Who ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner
The beetle to turn the world around
The blame of the things that is
The bees in me lilting and cradling a song
Of buzzing and branding my inside
With their culture and I can't help but dance
It is why but how could that be
When the things that we see
Are who to you but which to me
Could be different in things
Better to believe
But then again
What is this feeling
If feeling is how
Then why?
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
PoetryPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
