Dont reach up, dont touch the ceiling.
You will get your fingers cut off
they said, of the ceiling fan.
as if it was not bad enough
not to see the atmosphere
to be limited to a box.
Another worry: sharp,
whirring ceilings.
Setting sights
a little
lower.
This was an experiment in tying the poems structure to its meaning, just a little idea.
A little advice if you start getting into poetry, dont do it so other people will like it, if they do that is good, but write for yourself, put a piece of yourself on that page every time. And if someone doesnt like it, well listen to criticism, but dont let them decide who you are, just the way you express it, depending on many factors, a small thought.
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