Multitudes stand in my mind

Behind the eyes, where multitudes abide, a mind decides to obey strange instructions:

thoughts

bloom like fruit & fall, one by one; some return to the earth & become new life while others, for reasons unknown, decay slowly & grow into nothing but waste;

warped their shape & sound contort as they fall onto a dark forest floor & grow thorns:

will beauty persist when feelings no longer exist?

If I say you have misunderstood me will you say you know what I mean?

& why write a poem

no one will read?