I look up at the dark night,
and all I can see are stars.
Finding the temptation irresistible,
I want to soar, shedding dead skin,
turning it in for a fresh body to yank on
so that I can prep for launch and see
such a beautiful array of systems up close.
It’s getting harder every day to bear the sun,
and I find no comfort in squinting in the heat.
Fleeing from the burning wrath
of that ever-watchful eye, never ceasing.
I tire of scrambling around in search
for an answer as to why we’re even alive at all.
These secrets remain elusive, and we trudge
in ignorance, blind to our own self-destruction
not even aware of who we’re hurting anymore.
Despairing it all, I cast my eyes on a brighter surface,
shimmering in the skies, while we toil in waste.
How is it that we can only reach, but never grasp?
How long must we toil before we can soar free,
free of all burdens, despair, and suffering?
I stand here underneath the glittering eyes above,
hoping that I won’t have to wait much longer.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
I am alone and solo,
Bound to be propelled from this seat,
Launched into the skies like a rocket,
Rejected by mankind, I am unwanted,
My voice is an unheard cry in the wilderness,
an anguished scream aimed towards the heavens,
seeking to know who I am, demanding my release,
from this prison, my own personal gutter.
I receive no answer in return, merely a soft hand
on my shoulder, a reassurance. It disappears quickly,
leaving me to be preyed on like a dying beast,
buzzards soaring above my beaten head.
Where do I go from here? How can I get back to my feet,
knowing that I will only be struck down again?
I lay in dust, choking, fearing for the worst.
But I know I will pull myself together,
slowly, in agony, straining with the effort to rise,
my body bruised, my heart aching, forlorn,
and not a soul cares to mend it.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
