deepundergroundpoetry.com
Fly Away
Fly.
I want to fly.
Like a bird.
Like a plane.
Like a superhero man.
I want to fly away from the pain.
And the hardships that are (what could be) a simple life.
Why does everything hurt?
And everyone hurt me?
I will not let these battles break me.
I am standing on the frontlines holding my head high.
The guns are being fired.
And the bombs are being dropped.
Blood is shed and tears are cried.
And I put my arms up ready for a fight.
I think of a music video I saw once and when the enemy is about to deliver the final blow.
The girl runs from the men holding her back and hugs her enemy, changing him, making him drop the night stick and hug her back.
I wish I could do that right now.
But I can't.
I am at fault for alot of the problems in my life.
I just want to be able to live.
And breathe.
And smile.
And laugh.
And read.
And write, I love to write.
But these angry voices pounding on my ears and mind and soul until the words come out mangled and useless.
And so I'm ready to leave these people and these places.
And to go far away.
And be away from all of this pain.
And maybe I'll come back when it stops hurting and when people like at me.
Maybe it'll stop hurting.
If I just flew away.
I want to fly.
Like a bird.
Like a plane.
Like a superhero man.
I want to fly away from the pain.
And the hardships that are (what could be) a simple life.
Why does everything hurt?
And everyone hurt me?
I will not let these battles break me.
I am standing on the frontlines holding my head high.
The guns are being fired.
And the bombs are being dropped.
Blood is shed and tears are cried.
And I put my arms up ready for a fight.
I think of a music video I saw once and when the enemy is about to deliver the final blow.
The girl runs from the men holding her back and hugs her enemy, changing him, making him drop the night stick and hug her back.
I wish I could do that right now.
But I can't.
I am at fault for alot of the problems in my life.
I just want to be able to live.
And breathe.
And smile.
And laugh.
And read.
And write, I love to write.
But these angry voices pounding on my ears and mind and soul until the words come out mangled and useless.
And so I'm ready to leave these people and these places.
And to go far away.
And be away from all of this pain.
And maybe I'll come back when it stops hurting and when people like at me.
Maybe it'll stop hurting.
If I just flew away.
Published 4th Jun 2013
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