The height of the cliff,
It draws me near.
It seeks out my rifts,
Takes away my fears.

The silent crashing sea,
It calls to me.
It brings a certain peace,
A calming finality.

The whispers of the breeze,
It soothes away crystal tears.
Gentle whispers of lullaby,
Echoing through the years.

The solid rocks below,
They tell me "come",
Their strength and rigidity,
Enough to lure the numb.

And so I stand at the edge,
Take the scenery above,
Before I succumb,
To the pull of below.

The blow. The flow.
My arms are wings thrown,
Yet the only way to go,
Is down, where peace and silence grows.

To die is to be free,
As to be free is to set sail.
Set sail on no man's trail,
And becoming but a tale.

Peace leads to chaos,
As tyranny contructs order.
Harmony can be forced,
As long as the music moves further.

To dream is to hallucinate,
As to hallucinate is to run.
Running across the hazy field,
Chasing the setting sun.

To sleep is to die,
As to die is to rest.
Rest from the tiring task of living,
Laying laxed in respite.

Frustration.
Stagnation.
Dissociation.
Imagination.

Alternating footsteps.
Running.
Jumping off.
And soaring.

The Hummingbird that catches.
Prevents the fall and scratches.
Unstruck matches.
Contains fuses and fire.

The flight leads to Land.
Where cotton is sand.
Where Life is grand.
Where Weak Knees can stand.

A lifetime in minutes.
A minute for eternity.
An eternity of chosen Destiny.
A Destiny that'll never be.

A Captain of the Sea.
A Chief among the Trees.
Commander of the Breeze.
In Reality never Free.

Staring off the sand.
Lived lifetimes that never happened.
Just to come back the next day.
Where the Lost is not Astray.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like a little girl among trees?
Taught to fear the Bad Wolf,
Through my grandmother's stories.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like grain of sand in an hourglass?
Put away for display,
Only purposeful while it lasts.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like succulent in a condo?
Deprived of sun, drowned in water,
Bought for someone else's sorrow.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like a bird with clipped wings?
I have feathers, I could sing,
But was never meant for soaring.

Am I set aside or isolated?
Now I'm pondering in despair.
They say I'm meant for something great,
But not allowed to do better.

"The bad wolf, it'll **** me."
"Outside the glass, I'd be blown away."
"The pretty sun, it might scorch me."
"In my safe bird cage, I'll watch... but stay."