I want to fly but I am failing
falling in the deep
dying to myself
resurrecting old beliefs

struggling to comprehend why my being is now still
I am sick of being boring
I lead myself into the thrill

the abyssal oceans blue that sway inside my mind
searching for a label
a diagnosis of some kind

Time is not real
Structure cannot be measured or weighed
I wait for the big moment when my wires become frayed

being "good" does not matter
I just want to be free
But freedom is subjective when I lose sight and still see