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Bubble Buffer
Outstretched palms aside
like gliding planes that dive
to threaten those that grounded
these bubbles we've surrounded
and beat our heads against
to dull our common sense,
drooling like the fool who's lost
among the doors we're mapping.
Sever trappings shared
by dimmer few that dared
to wall themselves away from they,
who'd press against them anyway.
Orbs that are descending
could signal worlds as ending, but
with sufficient force to ply,
we'd realize our presence when
we're through the film, in flight,
and dozing on trascendent wind.
Your poem
In your note thing u say that this is awful when honestly its not, it really good. :)