Listen to poem:
Do You Mind If I Cut In?
The music held two shadows in their place.
A stranger bowed with borrowed, polished grace.
“Do you mind if I cut in?” they tap to say—
Before either could answer, one was swept away.
Every interruption leaves some unpaid debts.
When do good manners sharpen into threats?
What does the ego think it gets to own—
A promise, or a hand to what isn't known?
Time cuts the sentence well before its close;
Who grants it leave? — The clock already knows.
Truth rarely knocks; it enters in a cracked seam—
Was chance the guest, or fate dressed as a dream?
Ask the mirror if it envies glass.
Would it become a window to let you pass?
Which side is prison, which side built the view?
And who decides what counts as breaking through?
One day, as you name who you are meant to be,
Eternity may smile, tap tap, and quietly disagree.
"Do you mind if I cut in?" is its whisper ahead—
Who answers then—the living, or the one left unsaid?
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