I want to fly high above the clouds and sit on the moon
Where no one can find me and drag me down
No voices, no people
Just myself, and the cold moon
Up above so high that no eyes can see even a silhouette
Of my body
And gone from the memories of everyone who's known me
Cause just existing in their minds is a burden
I want the prisons of
Expectation, responsibility, social standards
To fade into the background, I'm no longer shackled
I want the sky to hug my body
As the sun makes it warm for me to live
And the tips of my fingers caress the earths sphere
The soft grass exterior and the cold wet seas
And the bumps of humanity
The cattle and the sheep, small living things
The tall mighty trees and the small leafs
Whilst I'm up high, no one can reach me
Beautiful isolation.
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YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Poet
PoetryI write about the world. Her, him, the places of meaning, aggression, compassion, or human nature. TRIGGER WARNING !! some poems talk about s*elf harm and su*cide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to such topics. I will try to put a trigger...
