(written in anger while my thoughts are stolen)
Anger eats me up
As someone steals my idea
Cloaked behind an understanding ear,
Is a thief
Dissent was her armor
But it was a dreamweaver
Not bad dreams did it catch
But good thoughts to amass
Who is this thief
That robs in plain sight?
Is she not content
With her own thoughts?
Is she lacking originality
Or is lacking the limelight
That she claim my words
For her own?
What is behind this deception?
What do you get from glory that is not your own?
Do you laugh to yourself and pat yourself on the back
For a job you didn’t do?
(because no one else does?)
What good comes out of an idea
Peddled but not the right brand?
Some cheap imitation one holds on to
But see, look closely, it’s missing an “I”
Thief of thoughts
What do you do?
To stolen gifts
Not meant for you?
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