The Fortune of Tellers


There is a cut inside my hand

that separates

Life from Reality

A true sense of

where I am now

from where I want to be

Others claim to be able

to read me

And I go along with

the lie

Should I not nod

then egg smears violently

Adhere to rhetoric

I mimic what they tell

Be it I who sees the fine line

inside my head

And provoke my large hands

to grab hold of it all

Releasing to only increase

Again

The story flows

As only spirit knows

May the backs of my hands

stay as clean

One thought on “The Fortune of Tellers

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s