poezja o gościu w głowie

flying

the first time I felt that, wasn't that scary.
probably I thought about just being tired
But still feel quietly

the second time was a disaster
with a lot of sadness and a pillow on the floor
thanks to that, couldn't go far away from my little comfy home.

i know, flying is bad
that's why I have wings hidden that even I feel like they're not mine but already found by someone who don't treat them right

I don't remember how many times it was after
the third, maybe much more numbers
I do remember being quiet
I do remember saying I'm tired.
I remember feeling that
I do.

how it was?
well, funny story is I think I'm just getting old
because now I do not remember you know?
I think I didn't, don't, won't.
wings? well, I think I lost them a long time ago
pillows? I saw all of them yesterday. all on the floor.

maybe someone someday won't think it's not just comfy little home. maybe someday someone will see the nothingness I see in that.
but for now, lay down.
I hope you won't hear any sound.