As I struggle restrained
by charcoaled fleece,
unvocalised and uninspired
another “baa” to add to the
manured gears at work,
plagiarized -
sunlight awakening
and moon-dust
dozing serene,
by a need for purchase -
an invasion of the minute
green-noted men,
outlining fortune tales
of a win every time
just pay the million deposit first,
success is guaranteed
just be lonesome.

Perhaps my insatiable curiosity
of fictional footsteps, lotions,
potions in various flavours
rows upon racks
of wondrous words
are leading me astray,
Vicarious witnesses might
consider me a dreamer
uncommitted to a prospect of wealth,
am I truly shuffling along
instead of chasing paper moths
straight into a debt induced flame?

She was the moon
then the sun rose,
daylight looked on,
as he buried away
his dear prose,
a grave to mourn?
or a seed was sown?
She was the winter
then the sun rose,
all the blood bled,
all the tears shed,
manured into the land,
on which they both wed,
and in the deep ends lied
his dear prose.

You are a burning fire
Capable of giving heat and warmth
Or burning everything wild into ashes
YOU, are standing here today with your wings
Ready to fly high, all set and prepared
You see the  the weapons coming to you right?
To cut  your wings and throw you down in the ground again
But today these wings cannot be cut
The wings that you have today has taken
Years to grow, nurtured by struggle
Watered with tears of pain and despair
Manured with the sensation of darkness all around
Your roots are strong, since you have grown
Facing all the storms and thunder of problems
So, fly high today!
Fly high leaving every thing behind
Fly to conquer your dreams
Fly to catch the colors of rainbow
And paint yourself today
You are not someone be in the ground my friend
You  are someone to touch the sky!