When did I become
a spectator of this?
The absolute agony
of aching for bliss.
It shudders my skin
like a whispering wind.
But I’m not sure
if I’m still here.

I long for life’s most
beautiful things.
Love, at last
without the strings.
Smiles and sparks;
a soul that sings.
But I’m not sure
if I can breathe.

You see, I try to fly
but I just can’t win.
A bird that strains
with clip on wings;
chained to the Earth
with deranged beliefs
and a heart that’s lost
without relief.
grief.