I have heard the better word
that defined
my lack of pride
beyond the line
I've drawn upon
to elevate the livid lies
that I was braver,
when I was not

And they pointed
at the arrow sign
To my neverland
'far fetched' above
my knees gave out
and I succumbed
to the scrutiny
of many eyes

I might seem a bit mystic but I’m good at heart

A small garden rakes over my eyes and a head digging in and scrapping away

She says,

My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson red,
And dripping every seed on the ground
It’s ripe and over-full,

My dissatisfied heart,
My heart it is more human than I,
More than life itself

Often
My heart cries but my eyes are dry,


And behold my friend
This is what I call my brief tragedy of flesh
Tragedy of life

My very demise

You always waited for the moment
When the wind will come
And take you away

Like a paper crane

Gently dancing with the breeze
Flying far, far from me
You couldn't see
The tear on my cheek
But it's okay
It will dry

And maybe someday I to will learn how to fly