a silent laugh—
an inside joke no one else can catch,
trying to take flight over the height of a dream.
but what is a dream if it only stings the eyes?
an eye sore, instead of wings to soar.
...I am a prisoner of flesh and skeleton,
fueled by passion, smuggling scars beneath
my skin; blood turned ammunition,
bones as empty shells clattering the floor.
...I am animal, and I am engine—
_factory default,_ released into a world
obsessed with modifications.
we bolt wings like spoilers onto cars,
__spoiled for choice,__ but never to lift—
only to weigh us down.
heavy disguises, dressed up as flight.
and still, we dream of air.
still, we hunger to rise.
such a cruel irony:
built for motion, yet forever
grounded.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 2:06 PM UTC
a silent laugh—
an inside joke no one else can catch,
trying to take flight over the height of a dream.
but what is a dream if it only stings the eyes?
an eye sore, instead of wings to soar.
...I am a prisoner of flesh and skeleton,
fueled by passion, smuggling scars beneath
my skin; blood turned ammunition,
bones as empty shells clattering the floor.
...I am animal, and I am engine—
_factory default,_ released into a world
obsessed with modifications.
we bolt wings like spoilers onto cars,
__spoiled for choice,__ but never to lift—
only to weigh us down.
heavy disguises, dressed up as flight.
and still, we dream of air.
still, we hunger to rise.
such a cruel irony:
built for motion, yet forever
grounded.
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