The goat bleats and bawls
Its menacing eyes roving into mine
"I do not understand your language, "
it only screams or maybe shouts
All I hear is a louder meh
I'm neither an agriculturist nor a veterinarian
And I wait some more
Maybe it will say something or give me a sign
None
What do you call it?
Telepathy
I open my mind
There is only silence
My mind hovering on a tiniest voice that never comes
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong. Forgive me," I say
I close the barn and running after me
Is the shrill cries of the goat
What am I to do?
I walk farther away
Blocking out the noise
YOU ARE READING
Into My Eyes
PoetryThis is a shift from the "lies and hyperbolism" of poetry. This is not a lie. It's is a dissection of my eye. My thoughts are horrific and beautiful. I see angels where I should see monsters; I see demons where I should see daffodils and sunflowers...
