While I fly in the sky,
My brain isn't here,
It's in the playground,
Where I think it doesn't disappear.
It needs it's relief too,
Guess I can't be sadistic to myself, no.
While I sway like a kite,
The swings pick me up off my feet, slow,
A fifty percent chance I'll fall and not flow.
The wind on my back to guide me,
Flying with me threw the air,
My eyes are closed,
Sealed tight shut, not staring at the earth's sphere.
As I let out a joyful noise,
Imagining that I'm home,
My strings, they let go,
Just like the strings of a kite, flowed.
Now they're no longer sewed.
The only thing left is that fine line,
That ties me to the pole, life,
I guess my time will come,
When it's time to finally let go.
My swing, my kite,
They both flew,
They both came down.
Not one of them could be trusted,
To keep me afloat.
YOU ARE READING
A Universe Of Mystery✧
PoesíaThe second book for: My Book Of Poetry I hope you enjoyed my last book and that this book will as fun(ish), better and even enjoyable than my last. If you're reading this book first, then I hope you love/like it. This book may include triggers such...
