View From My Window
Philosophy About Why the Fly Gets Caught In the Window Screen
The window glares at me with its obsidian eye.
I see myself in the glass, or is it just
my reflection? I don't know why I ask
so many questions about simplistic things, maybe
I was a philosopher in a
past life. I guard myself against the pains
of life, but there they are, glaring at me
in outright anger, forcing me to take a step
back and look at my surroundings.
Suddenly, the fly
flies into the window, its wings
caught in the screen. It struggles
desperately to break free,
and catches itself on an updraft on the way
out the door.
I see myself in the glass, or is it just
my reflection? I don't know why I ask
so many questions about simplistic things, maybe
I was a philosopher in a
past life. I guard myself against the pains
of life, but there they are, glaring at me
in outright anger, forcing me to take a step
back and look at my surroundings.
Suddenly, the fly
flies into the window, its wings
caught in the screen. It struggles
desperately to break free,
and catches itself on an updraft on the way
out the door.
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Philosophy About Why the Fly Gets Caught In the Window Screen
Philosophy About Why the Fly Gets Caught In the Window Screen
