Feather
Is it too easy to just float along the current? What about if I try? What is my reason to be alive? Everyone’s expectations are spread too thin, ashes to the wind, the blade to my
skin
it cuts deep, but it comes from me. It sources its powers from the wishes I hold within. I dreamed of a lot, but never dreamed of just one spot, where I would land and begin to take my shot at
life
but before I could fire, the world drew first. Drew blood, falling from my inspiration and driving me to desperation. Drew the picture I didn’t want to see, the picture everyone claims was in me. It drew me away from those lofty expectations, those high-up declarations, those good vibrations. It drew me
down
to the earth, where those that have come before and achieved lie. The ones that feared nothing, and reached for the sky. And I come to my senses and just want to cry out “are angels dead people who learned how to fly? if I grow wings then tell me, do I deserve to die?”
no
I still have much more to live for, that sentiment rocks me straight to my core, I run like the sea rushes its waves right up to the shore and bursts open. My parents may have made me but they didn’t make me, my friends all know me as just a strong maybe, but I refuse to believe that I can be analyzed and systemized by those that refuse to go
free
I may be no angel, but hell if I’m defeated, I didn’t come this far, just to get cheated out of my life, liberty, and my pursuit of happiness, if they won’t come to me, I’ll go to where greatness is seated. To the lines of history, drawn in the sand, I will run alongside, all I need in my hand, and my head, and I will soldier on. Until the latest, and greatest, morning
dawn