DNA chords
I wonder what it would feel like to be validated by them.
Under the wing of my own mother hen.
Ink spills over our desk, so I pick up the pen.
Carefully chosen words fall on deaf ears.
Oily feathers revealed to be spears.
My ink bleeds over wasted years.
Friction picks up speed,
mingles desire with need,
anxiety becomes my steed.
Closeness coded into chords of DNA,
yet I do not know the notes to play.
You march along to their flashy displays,
I can only dance to your utmost dismay.