I do not have any epic metaphorical lines
For this poem is not me preaching from my soul
To me these are just lines on a thin sheet of paper
One that floats in the wind like a bird with broken wings drenched in sorrow's blood,
As it just attempts to become something better than itself
Not knowing that it is doomed to be marooned on the ground of this forsaken planet
Constantly being stepped on and kicked around by the wind's rough touch
Constantly catching the tears of others, but stay hiding it's own behind a cloaked mask
What a sad story for a weightless sheet of paper that just wanted to soar
Forced to live a lie everyday
Until finally it begins to decay