The brief flutter of wings
I turn,
senses ambushed by rationality.
I too, then, spread my wings to fly
for a different purpose
because I know I cannot.
Justifying worthlessness is easy
when it's all laid out in front of you.
There is a sinking feeling, deep in my stomach
in the theoretical “pit”, if you will
a soul, spirit, or mere consciousness.
(but am I conscious?)
Seeking redemption for your self-scarring has gotten you
Nowhere, but around the bend.
as if one made it through a mental labyrinth
only to forget they left the key outside their head.
But with that I leave you,
your selfishness cannot follow me
neither can your greed or lethargy.
For these wings cannot even carry me,
but I'm still going to spread them and jump,
and I know I can't fly.

See you all eventually, maybe.
Quote by Ur all $h1t
I stick stuff in my pee hole.


Schecter C-1 Classic
Ibanez S670PB
Stratocaster MIM Standard
Marshall MG30 (its purple )
Dunlop Crybaby Wah
poems about flying= amazing
never gets old. I thought it was beautiful. Good job!