Feathers

Light are the feathers, and stiff are the boards.

Shut all the old ones to open new doors.

Wing of my wing, I ruffle the feathers.

There is no pen outranked by a sword.

I’m light on my feet 'cause my energy’s heavy.

I’ll soar with the skies when gravity lets me.

Birds are no planes, so they have all their feathers.

Nine of my clouds are also quite hefty.

As quick as the winds, I’m running in circles.

My vitals were gray, and now they’re all purple.

I fell from the heavens, the ground was quite hard.

The moment I landed was more than quite hurtful!

I take to the cosmos, and then I soar.

Hitting the ground made me so fucking sore.

Yes, I left behind a few feathers, I just don’t want to lose anything anymore.

I love gray skies! Inside, let me die flying.

I’m off over the sun, look down, I’ll die frying.

The feathers catch fire.

I rolley-polley out the flames, or I die trying!

Light are the feathers, and long are the days.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

If you play with fire, you’ll burn off your feathers.

I’ve thought about killing you in 25 ways.

Skin separates by the dullest of blades.

Light disappears in the dimmest of fades.

Black is dyed, those beautiful feathers.

The end of this tunnel has a cheerful, bright haze.

Flocks in the trees, just watch ‘em fly south.

Gander at them with open your mouth.

Feathers to the wind, and weightless they fall.

They were meant to ascend to a home from a house.

Leave not a sign, DNA, or hair.

We grow from a glance, to a look, to a stare.

Don’t be jealous of their feathers, when there’s hardly any there.

Just accept it as fate, that no life is fair.