I switch between believing myself to be great
and then crying for what seems like eternity.
I ride the rollercoaster
with the high-highs and low-lows.

The “high-highs” consist of paradise and normalcy.
The “low-lows” contain self doubt and abnormality.
I am a bird in the sky
then an insect in the grave.

I fly and become one of those euphoric beings.
Then, I become an insect and compost the dead.
I spread my wings wide to waft.
I crawl in the crypt like a creep.

I am but a bird and the insect.