From child to adult, We learn to flee. Away from home, And to the sea. From the wings of our guardians, We fly among the rest. To our own creation, Away from our nest. Flying is hard, Terror pollutes the air. Leaving me burdened, Alone,
The mind Is larger than Anyone could see. Panic and worry Over things unseen. Find comfort in worlds Of make believe. Yearning for safety In the heart of green. Urging to run,
My mind is windy, So cold in storm. Thoughts so violent They scrape and scorn. Illness of those Who freak and fret, Led to temptation Of permanent rest. Locked in frustration Of guilt and regret.
We fall Into design. A pretend world Created, According to the eyes Of ones with no sight. We live, And we die. Some fight And some hide. Both strong in right, Though equal in fear. As living through others,
No. Not again. My heartbeat stops And comes to an end. Lord. It’s the end. A flower once nourished Now withered instead. Nothing. Blue feelings instead. Imbalanced inside As I hang by a thread. Hm. I’m hung by a thread. Cut off from stitches That helped me to mend.