This story would work better if you would stay calm.
Be quiet and your hands,
together palm in palm
Let your thoughts drift as I softly shove your brain through the outer limits.
You secretively squeal for help, yet there is no response.
your thoughts exceed past the infinity digits of math, far beyond the formula of science, and up past the religious clouds, where you fall on uncertain earth.
you speak through humming, clicks, and groans.
Yet, write perfectly.
Skin, not of the average color, but you blend in.
The F. B. I. appear, and in a cell you are thrown to be later dissected and spectated.
You are a poet,
and without knowing it, you are an alien.
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