Frame

I'll dance in front of my television
Just to watch my silhouette
With my feet planted firmly
I'll move my arms and hands
Like distinct, ethereal entities
They'll drift around my form
A misty light creeps through blinds
And frames my shadow from behind

A tree with two branches
That swirl around its odd trunk
A tragic limitation of reflection
They disappear within its form
My focus breaking on a pixel
How can this be possible?
The shape is wretchedly abnormal
This outline can't be me