I learned
that I can’t know what’s inside my head
unless I break it open
that letting go doesn’t mean
to give up
that I can’t fly
if I’m not looking at the void below me
that I already have wings, they just
can’t bring me home
if have none
I’ve been left on this planet
by an absent father
and a mother who did nothing but
fill me with doubt and guilt
why?
I don’t know where I come from, I don’t remember
but I have dreams that are growing bigger
I know where I’ll be
I walk among the ghosts from my past
between fog and tears
scraped knees and
bandaged up knuckles
dead leaves are rotting under the rain
the street is just a black spiral grabbing me down
hands heavy with darkness crush me to the ground
where I crumple
a hole in my chest
walls close on me
the ceiling moves up, fast
I have no escape
and I come out of a bleeding paper sheet
with wings made of paper and ink
I wear black and I draw skulls
but I’m just as scared as you
maybe even more
I can assure you
I don’t look so tall on my knees
while I crawl, hands covered in mud
in blood
from all the mirrors I broke
I’m so proud of what I am
I turn another page
I drink another beer
I swallow another drop of Xanax
I write another line