I find this mortal body pretty and lithe
But not supple enough, I need more to fly
I try to walk lightly through the day, but still feel a fight
As if my skin suffocates my spirit, gasping till she cry
I see the twilight sky above me glimmer
I stretch out my arms, but stopped by muscles’ limits
Angered at my inability, my soul begins to simmer
But saddened at my despair, she weeps and grows timid
I watched a bluebird flit across the azure
My body jumped in earnest, but Gravity won the round
Disgusted at my chains, I cut my skin all the more
But grieved by my plight, I watched my blood trickle to the ground
I saw the clouds float across the spring-filled skies
My feet ran to keep up, but human speed is vain
Furious that I lost, I hung my head in heavy sighs
But distraught by my prison, my tears flow in pain
I am still here today, in this aging dungeon of flesh
Walking slow steps, becoming more tired by the day
But can I be free, for my spirit to fly fresh?
So she can feel the breeze, as her worries blow away?
Poetry