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