no rain, no flowers (poems)

89

ONE WAY TICKET

Comes the bullet train,
here I cry.
Behind the window pane,
I hear them sigh.
For not taking the road,
they've built for me.
Still, will write an ode,
that comes from glee.
A thank you letter,
for all the years,
they give me feathers,
so I can flee.
Will always return
so they can see, 
that I can grow
without bruising my knees.
But if I'll still bruise,
then I will bleed.
Simply because,
that is how
I will succeed.