i'm standing on the tip of my toes

hoping i get to glow like a butterfly that finally located her wings; and perhaps the ropes that are around my ankles,

have been made so tight, to hold me back down to the ground.

instead of fighting back, i summon a demon that pulls me down and tells me to be humble.

it's not the truth

of what i see now, but i'm singing a melody that was ancient and filled with tears.

what i found mesmerizing, is nature and the trees that found dancing as a hobby whenever

the wind would visit and softly tickle it's leafs.

intense eyes, meet the sunset, and swallow back the longing to grab a hand that was made of pure delirium.

humans have been scrutinizing up, rejecting to see the

remains of my ashes.

realms come and go,

the refusing sunlight becomes a dark stage for worries

to many.

cut into pieces were the papers i wrote for the yesterdays-

the wicked self-centered humans who have concealed the truth

of such bogus innocence.

i'm no one to redeem the past, but the pity that comes from such words can so proceed as a

'little flow to the recreation'.

and don't trees flourish when the sun is above?