I want to put my closed windows down
flat on the floor
and get my opportunity
through my own weight
and not by force

I breathe out
and with it my thoughts
it says everything
but also nothing 
and no one hears it
not even my echo  

I feel like a flower in bloom
ripped off its stem
its purpose still 
to see

The wall disappears 
like a wave's crest falls
out of sight

and you enjoy the view
You're about to see
following 
in anticipation 

If you put your four best parts together
you will be left
with less than mediocracy 

Everything is in order
except for the things you push along 

In my reflection the crooked lines
are straight 

not because I want to
because they should

It's a matter of optics 

I just want to sit down.

I love that we have trees besides the road
standing in a park all alone
or in a corner 
looking at it all

because in the forest they are in their city
never alone but forgotten by all