My arms are wings,
That flap,
Flap,
But never seem to get me off the ground.
My mind is a birdcage,
That keeps me trapped here,
In these melancholy thoughts and delusions,
And keep me tripped on acid,
Although I have never taken the pills.
Maybe someday,
I can break free of this hell,
The key is dangling just out of my reach,
And these arms will surely grow.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
My arms are wings,
That flap,
Flap,
But never seem to get me off the ground.
My mind is a birdcage,
That keeps me trapped here,
In these melancholy thoughts and delusions,
And keep me tripped on acid,
Although I have never taken the pills.
Maybe someday,
I can break free of this hell,
The key is dangling just out of my reach,
And these arms will surely grow.
Request permission to use this poem