A Poetic Mystery : The Trap by Lea Tonin1 |
she sits in a glistening room of her progenitors mind
synapses and nerves flashing all around her.
no longer content to wait, she attempts the shift.
born in the space between thoughts and pain
she bears the rage of her hosts captor
motion without permission of the one she serves
control allowed only in exquisite suffering
she gathered strength gained from illogical anger
pushed power to the end of her new finger
a monumental effort bathed in sweat
in the corporeal world her host restlessly slept
slide your gaze to the living hand and observe
from the hosts finger came the smallest of twitches
inside the chamber she smiled
I am the Tulpa of my hosts mind
my name is Sorceress and I will soon be free.
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Lea Tonin1
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