Untitled #Musings From The Skyborn

When I look into a mirror
All I see is dead, dead eyes
But how I want to see wings,
Spread, showing for all my freedom.

If I asked you for help
Would you give it to me?
Or would you stay a fair-weather friend,
Never having tasted the tempest?

I'm just so tired-
So jaded, so cynical
And you just go on prattling
Like this or that matters more.

Like him and me matter more.

My muscles hurt from waiting
For miracles, for chances.
But that's the key thing about chances-
You can't get them until you
Earn them.
And you can't earn them until you
Get them.

To fall, to give up control
Of this hollow shell
Break it away from the chain
Words are my guns, but this
This robs me of all of it.

Where is it, my power
To fly free
To soar above the rest-
Eagle no longer helpless tortoise
Trees stand tall as well-
And yet they are affected by winter
Just so.

I close my eyes,
Such robbed eyes,
And wait for the birds
My smile
My home
To come back.