The Irony Of My Existence
when we are on the plains
when i still suffer from those storms
you entice me
into having wings
designed
into a flight to the sky
you lay the rules
and i admit them saying
it's a deal
you have the numbers
and the
penalties
you say there is a mold
to follow
and if i were to succeed
i must obey
down to the last letter of the
law
i agree, &
i suffered more than
i expect
i just want to succeed
i burn my nights
i grow more days
seeding my years with more moons
spreading more stars
to my lonely
skies
and i go on top
breathing the peaks of winds at last
seeing everything
now,
it is beautiful
i am successful
i have achieved
your goals for
me
and then suddenly
you change the rules
you call me
i must go down again
to begin
i tell you again
there are no shapes
no molds
for the heart that strives
there are only
longings
i must tell you again
that i have done more
by not doing
anything
i have seen the truth by
not looking
at the rules
i have traveled more
by merely
staying
at peace with myself
no more wounds to lick
as i have cut my tongue
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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