Body so cold
But my heart is so warm,
This landscape, my landscape
Pushes my wings to keep beating.
If I feel now I would not be sad,
For I wish only to land up
the manicured lawns of Aristocrats.
I would have earned my sleep.
Raw is how I feel,
the brooks, the hollows, the trees
all seep into my mind and bones.
Utter joy and contempt, a mixture.
I should have flown away more often,
My nest in the turret was always a haven,
and natures prison,
I would have earned my hope.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
Body so cold
But my heart is so warm,
This landscape, my landscape
Pushes my wings to keep beating.
If I feel now I would not be sad,
For I wish only to land up
the manicured lawns of Aristocrats.
I would have earned my sleep.
Raw is how I feel,
the brooks, the hollows, the trees
all seep into my mind and bones.
Utter joy and contempt, a mixture.
I should have flown away more often,
My nest in the turret was always a haven,
and natures prison,
I would have earned my hope.