Part Of The Act Poem by jathin aka jesuzz

In this cage of invisible bars
I have the luxury of sports cars
In this puppetry with magnets,
My actions are no longer mine.
Refrain is the game,
An maybe even, her middle name

When is it that mornings are mourning
Or rain feels like crying aloud
The rivers are in silent denial
Winds are no longer, free
But caged in glass walls
Forced into paths, pre planned.
The tulip, fakes a smile
In the long stretch of a country mile.

Is it me or the world
Who is more sad?
I am not poor, nor raped
Nor Broken or bloody raged
I am no junky nor gothic
Neo fascist nor control freak
I am loved, I am cared
I am free, my soul bared

In the canvas of a painter- symbolic
I am the caramel engulfed fly.
I am the fire with no heat
The candle with no light
The rash with no itch
Incomplete, indistinct
My image in mirror
With my mouth sewed
Heart frozen closed
I reach for the mask
I swallow my tablets
I thank my ‘shrink’
I go to play, my part of the act