Reality, clouded by huckleberry smoke.
Blurred vision, the finish line distant.
Stretching your wings, testing the air.
A cold breeze fills your soul,
Yet a wonderland occupies your mind.
Real or not real, you cannot tell.
You notice feathers falling from your wings,
And again they turn into arms.
It wears off and you become you again,
No longer able to fly.
Smoke still clouds he air around you,
Making you unable to breathe.
Breaths coming far between and shallow.
Deep down, you hurt. Something feels off.
But, once again the wings regrow;
Like a Phoenix.
Huckleberry scented smoke fills the air again,
The aroma pumped back out.
The lines still blurred, but this time not as much.
Flying up, into the the sky with no limits.
No limits.
Limitless possibilities.
YOU ARE READING
Everyday Thoughts. Collection of writings and poems.
RandomThis is a compilation of stories too short to be their own, and free verse poems. I write each part while inspired by my current emotion, or something that may have recently happened. So know that all of these come from my heart, or my over active i...
