Rabid Poet

Rabid Poet
Rantings

Sunday, September 20, 2015

The Glass

The Glass

There is a glass
Between me and reality
I fly against that unseen
With all possibilty

I see it clearly
Where I want to be
But there is solidity
Between it and me

How I got here
Haven't a clue
Someone opened a door
And in I flew

How much longer
Can I fly against this glass
Until my wings are broken
And I breathe my last

Wait, the door just opened
Into fresh air I fly
To land on a flower
In my own way to cry

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