Dreams are forsaken memories.
They tell us the deep desires, we are forbidden to touch.
Our structural faults show when that dream is pulled away from us.
We’re flying, but we always get shot down and dragged back beneath heavy hands.
I’m spiraling out of the sky.
Dreams flickering past my eyes as I beg to hold on.
The green lights blind me as my soul flushes out from my wounds;
As I flap my wings looking for salvation.
I’m not buoyant enough to float to the surface
So I sink beneath the waves of my hopes gasping for a chance.
That chance is hiding though
And I don’t know where to look besides of the faces of those who sit on my dreams.
The water is cold and the situation is dim, but there is still light in my eyes.
Just floating a few inches above where the waves break
And I can’t help, but reach for it.
To beg for round two so I can skip from dream to dream
Until I reach that forbidden memory.
Shifting, twisting, I push myself through the debris that falls from the heavens.
I let the rubble hit me, but I will swim.
I will swim, not crumble because I’m not through.
I was meant to fly not sink.
I was meant to die in the heavens not the sea.
I was meant to break the surface time after time and take that chance.
My wings twist behind me as I reach for that sphere of my salvation.
Shake the water off as my bones grind and I try and catch a wind.
My wounds heal with each and every hope that fills my chest as I recover gliding.
It’s there. I’m here and I’ll recover.
My wings can break, but my hope will always be plentiful.
I am the bird.
I was meant to fly not sink.
I was meant to touch the heavens not the sea.
No, the heavens were meant to touch me.