We sometimes write our fears,
Hiding our desires in playoffs and words.
We write to the people we are.
We write to the people we would never be.
We write to the people we would die to be, wicked or not.
And that’s the thing with poetry,
We are stringed together,
Word by word, commas and full stops.
When I am a ghost, you too become one,
And when I am a god, so you become.