In gentle hands,
rising over waves of wind
to lands anew
we fly. And from so high
we are as small
as frost on the windowsill.

I look in the mirror and I see a face.
It's a young man's face.
He's got brown eyes.
His skin is the lightest of browns.
His face is round
And his chin has the slightest cleft
And his hair is short and black.
He is average in every way.
And sometimes,
But only sometimes,
He is handsome.
But I don't feel like him.
I don't feel like anyone.
What does it mean to be human?
I can't be one, otherwise I'd understand.
Right?
But I have emotions,
They just work differently than most.
They're stronger
Less restricted
And more raw.
Perhaps that is why I'm weak.
My anger is angrier
And my sadness is sadder
Happiness hides in its corner.
For fear of its own destruction
Upon the slightest emergence.
The Hurt is more painful.
Paper cuts deep into my bone.
My nerves are raw and exposed
For everyone to attack
And so I lash out.
Because I am hurt.
So I must hurt others,
Those who hurt me.
But then I'm pierced
By disapproving glares.
Because what I did was wrong.
But hurting me, that was okay.
The moral choice, even.
So how can I be human
When I am clearly so different,
So angry,
So sensitive,
So wrong?
And why do I see this human face
In the mirror?

A heart contains several notes-
Melodies for special situations.
Played like drums or quickly strummed,
they produce emotions.

A midnight tryst contains a lovely ballad,
Tempered later by the blues;
Fighting words will illicit drama
sung by a broadway muse.

Fear of fate will still sing the gospel
following a quick bout of prayer-
While a sunset always arrives
following electronic days in subtle layers.

Anothers pain is echoed by a wailing sound,
A guitar crying their hurt that day;
While a flute, light and airy,
brings peace and fends loss away.

A snow covered field on a winters day
is reflected by all that jazz;
And a solo by a lone violin
will remind us of beauty past.

A single aria from a lonely soul
becomes a duet between lovers,
while a dirge follows inevitably
when they depart each other.

So from my heart to yours,
Why can't we sing forever?
Let's let our souls fly free and
see what music we'll make together.

unrelenting thoughts are vying
for valuable space in my head

my heart explodes with joy
as I flutter my wings

I will never fly as gracefully
or as long as the other birds

but when I am in the air
even for a moment
I feel free

my broken wings lift me up
to where I do not know,
but somewhere etched in my heart

a strange thing happened when I
started singing songs of gratitude
for learning to fly with broken wings

other birds with broken wings
started to gather around me
sharing their experience and hopes

I am free as my heart sings joyfully
my own hopes and dreams
as I share my experience
to help another bird with broken wings
to journey a little closer
to the place etched in their hearts

and somehow I am exactly
where I am supposed to be
flying with broken wings