free stuff

you can’t own poems
you can pen them and send them
but you better let them go
being misunderstood
is no longer a fear
it’s a given
and you’ve given your words
to anyone and everyone
so that gift isn’t yours to hold
anymore you’ve put fabric in their hands
and they’ll make whatever they want
so stop yelling about curtains
as they drape it around their necks
a cape of new ideas
that you didn’t intend
but in the end
that’s not your poem anymore
so watch it blow in the wind
and know
that you might be a small piece
in their feats
but then again
maybe not

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