Chanted down on the mortal grounds with no ore wings, torn by he hounds.
Are you happy with your attempt to be free? Or are you merely disguising yourself with a hollow glee.
Wish to be found but don’t make a sound,
They may be watching somewhere, squirm to be freed from the nightmare
Hide little swallow, and let your partner follow.
This was actually a poem that a man from my dreams told me, so idk if I can really call it my poem??