Friday, November 1, 2013

Flying

Notes, marks, teachers, friendships, best-friends, lies, death, music, sad, grades, tests, breathing, sleep, love, hate, forest, darkness, crushes, pasta, rain, internet, sad songs, tears, fears, poem, novel, circles, depression, backstabbing, clouds, pizza, essays, exams, characters, lost pens, computer,  books, mistakes, maths, idiots, stars, lost, birds, tremor, earthquake, disaster, chocolate,watches, deserts, mistakes, flowers, language, pages, writing, paper, trees, feather.
Wings. Birds. Sky.
I want to fly away. I want to touch the blue skies. I want to feel those demeaning clouds that try to scare me. They can't frighten me away. The monsters of the night are much worse.
I want to fly away. My mind soars all the time. But I want wings. Delicate wings that I can't see. I know that they are there, but I can't find them.
I can't see anybody. I feel blind. Things change faster than time passes. The things are not staying still. They are blurry. So blurry. I can't see any edges. Everything is so vague. I can't see at all. I am blind.
I don't see myself anymore. The mirror shows somebody else. Unknown eyes stare back at me. The eyes once so filled with curiosity now loathes the day. Sometimes it is hidden but the raw pain still surfaces,
I find ugliness when I see things. Beauty has ceased to exist here. I feel that, because I don't have beauty in me nothing else should either. I think I need something to show me that there is still beauty left in what I am and what I do. Somebody. Anybody.
Everything hides. My mind hides. My imagination hides. My pens hide from me. Reports, books, help, friends, myself. Everything dislikes the thing called me.
But I still think my wings are there. I still think that I can fly. I think that I won't cry.
I will fly far away.

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