The math adds up I can't deny. I find most men weren't made to fly. Solid bones pull me down, wingless I still touch the ground. I yearn for something higher.
standing wordless yet repeating my desires. I feel the smoke on my soul, my heart like a coal. My minds a machine, churning out dreams. Unreachable, unreachable, without means I lie still. And hope to find a way to reconstruct my will. So I can float in a apparatus surviving but not striving like every other human being.