Feather wings
flapping at me
Whirling winds
storming at me
Just sitting on the hill
watching the sky turn
heavy boulders on my hand, old bills
I lit the flames on them to burn
Dragonfly arms, off into the sky
the wind blows on me like jets
dusted and filtered, I ask why?
not yet painted, but my heart is red
feather wings
flapping at me
whirling winds
storming at me
Just a frost, over my head
from steady swings
I can only sit on their bed
I shiver the next day, I'm clinged
