metapoetry
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Legato drawstrings tempt the blinds down, As heavy eyes burden my sight
Soft light etches on the wall Perplexing, vague visages
I care to speak on my own behalf
When my author is away from me.
Do you take me for him?
does the maker shape the body?
Am I not my own entity?
I am the fencer, the dancer,
The gesture and jest;
Nothing's left unscathed by my fingerprints;
Fabricating the familiar phrases, you can't
Escape my impressions or eloquence,
Silvering keys unlocking the doors
Of the gap between us,
Can I make you feel urgency? The pulse I'm imparting; quick to fade, resurfacing again with fidelity lost among the process, I hope it catches you.
Oh! Outstretched hands implore;
I insist on taking them.
Calloused they may be
But all the while worth more
Than their salts:
Eyeing ahead to the outcomes
Of butterfly occurrences,