I am scared.
You are becoming human,
looking back at the
colored leaves falling in autumn.

Was your pain
ripened? And you bled
poems? Ah you were the-
first wooly animal!

Surreal. Dancing
with beautiful words to
entice the lies. To woo
the narcisstic mode.

Thought of dying
shimmers like a fish in silvery
water. I won't throw
the net in your eyes.

River will not drink
its water.