to
whom do I belong?
to
myself, perhaps?
no,
to the world
in
all its cynical glory
my
talents belong to it
with
them I feed the system
the
small-minded Ahs
that
cannot see beyond this transparent thing
to
which we bow
to
whom do I belong?
to
my beloved, perhaps?
no,
to the world
with
all its crushing qualities
my
whispered words belong to it,
with
them I caption the lives
of
all those plastic doll heads
lost
to vices.
What
more can I do than
sit
and stew
in
this hated, cornerless box?
Nothing.
for
I belong to the world
in
all its cunning ultimatums.
to
the world
we
belong
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