The poem stretches down the page
Stained with tears and flowing with rage
Written with a trembling hand
Its disconnected and hard to understand
It jumps from here to there
It is everywhere
Its all in the poets head
it sleeps with you in bed
it follows with its jumbled lines
You read what is seemingly defines
But your eyes rearrange the words
They appear like soft little birds
You read what you want to read
afraid where to where it might lead