i see nothing.
but wasted charcoal
and dead tree
i look closer,
still nothing.
not good enough.
i bent my soul,
cut it open..
and let it flow from within
i painted my heart across several blank pages
..just like you told me to.
to see myself in greyscale
as i encourage my young to leave the nest
open, willing,
& easily shot down.
it feels like flying?
soaring?
OR
maybejust
insufficient.
Author notes
mmmeh.
Written August 5th, 2006
