Cut off

I am who I am. I write poetry and paint really badly. Please be patient.

I get these feelings

They come from time to time.

Visions of possibilities

Lives unknown to me.

Who is this in my mind?

Showing images that make

No sense to me.

Why are they here?

Taunting me, the images,

Things I wish to happen,

That never do.

Too vivid to be imagined.

Could they be my alternatives,

That can only be seen by me,

Worlds the same, yet different.

Where are they leading me?

Trying to follow, gets me lost

In floods of scenes flashing

Too quickly to see,

Always ending in failure to understand.

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