My words are out of
control.
I sow them,
Weave them,
But I have no control over
them.
They emerge from within
me,
Take me hostage,
Command my hand,
And with purpose write.
The parts are all
connected,
But the artist I cannot
see with the naked eye.
Who is this that takes
command over my body?
Over my speech?
Whomever she is is bound
to this body,
And her hidden mystery she desperately wants to
unveil.
