Is there truly
an escape?
The wind blows,
and I want it to whisk me away
into another world.
I trust the somber sky
more than I trust myself.
We're both blue,
stretching ourselves further
than we should.
My head is cloudy,
and I think a cyclone
is churning inside.
I'd let the breeze braid
silken strands of my hair,
and the sweet whistle of it
would sing me to sleep.
It'd whisper in my ear
wonderful things.
It would tell me that I no longer
have to fall to the ground -
it would keep me afloat.
The wind would lift me so high into the sky,
that perhaps I could touch the sun,
and dodge the fate
that Icarus fell unto.
I'd sleep on the soft clouds,
with a blanket of black night
and stars above.
Perhaps,
up in the sky with the wind,
I could breathe a little easier.
The air would kiss my lips,
and put life into my lungs.
I wouldn't notice
if it left them.
hang me in the air