How many times will this wound brake.
Barely beginning to heal.
Shiny taught skin over healing flesh.
Could have, should have left the bandage in place,
protecting the fragile new layer.
Instead I ran and jumped, I leapt and flew, danced and played…
and lived... again...
and felt... again...
and fell… again…
broke again
bleeding again
bandaged again
healing again
learning to be again.
scar gets thicker with each new break.
heart cries quicker with each new fake.
tears flow harder, reopening each wound.
tears dry harder, forming canyons of gloom.
And how many times will I rewrite this song.
How many times will this song rewrite me.
Please tell me when will I stop wanting to fly.
And please tell why I continue craving the sky.
…Up high in the air, where all the happy people share their love and love their share…
Will this well dry up, and the hope then rescind?
Will my heart stop pining for what might have been?
Will I ever feel full.
Will I ever find peace.
Will I never stay still
Will I never just be.
Be just, never I will
Just I, will never be.
