Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Paper Wings

Paper wings are Thin & Frail
Paper wings Fall & Fail

Proper wings sail through the sky
Proper wings fly far and high

Paper wings Crash & Burn
No clouds to be touched
No glory to be earned

A fool might build
A pair of paper wings
Be naive enough to believe
Those wings were fit for a king
It would seem quite apparent
That this is not so
But unfortunately
This the fool does not know...

At the peak of a mountain
He reached for the sky
But with wings made of paper
I just want to know why
Would a man such as he
Think he could fly
With false dreams and false hopes
He should just sit back and die

They searched for his body
But it never was found
Not one scrap of paper
Or broken bone on the ground
It can't be
That he flew away
On wings made of paper
There's no possible way

I
The privileged
Should have been the first one
Not this fool unworthy
Son of no one
He should have fell from the sky
A victim of gravity's wrath
Instead he was lifted on high
Sent on the most coveted path

So maybe paper wings aren't as bad as they say
Make your dreams into reality
Is what I learned today
Achieve your flight
Any way that you can
That's what separates a fool from a man

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