i feel like choice is not a choice,

i feel that my voice is not my voice;

i feel that i’m not me,

that there is no me but just be;

be is me, not a, not c,

b is me, in the middle, stuck free;

i feel that my heart just feels;

it feels to adhere a sense of ease,

future of taste, unexplored, unceased;

i feel, i feel, but how do I feel?

how do i always taste a great meal?

i’m not even in, i’m only a spin,

cradle of passion, in a be, begin;

i am tears with an eye that shimmers,

sparkles in oceans, lakes and rivers;

i am nothing,

but a reflection in time.