Does trying to look fine Count as fine?
Catching a breath in a world where lungs
Are constantly confined & good hearts
Are always the ones that get left behind.
Is it fair to fight battles in hands bare?
To fake being good till it brings no
Good to anyone there? To have the truth
On display, yet have to explain why
You feel like falling from a plane.
Is it fair to no longer have the energy to live?
Yet feel forced to do so and worse to give?
Does agony ever come to an end?
Or is it all written no matter how much
The shoulders bend while trying to
Rewrite the end?
Is it okay to let the sun burn my wings?
So they no longer fly to destinations
Where they're never meant, is it okay
To let the feathers peacefully fly away
With the things I couldn't keep in my way?
Maybe, not all wings were made to fly,
Maybe, some were meant to shield
Aching hearts in battle fields while
Drifting apart.
If the sky of love no longer calls my name,
Let me rest beneath it,
Not defeated,
Not mistaking survival for living,
Just simply breathing.
And if I fall,
Let it be toward a ground
Where I can finally stand,
Not stealthily tiptoe around,
Or chase spaces too small for my plans,
Toward a ground wide enough,
For my soul to belong,
And a sky full of love,
Kind enough to stay
Without feeling pain.
