By: Katelyn Czajkowski

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my yellowing wings, my waning strength

each feather sags 

encrusted with pus from neglected wounds

weighed down by miserable sighs

the heartache is unbearable

‘aim down, aim down’, it whispers

just a lovely little nosedive…  

 

I aimlessly charge on

hoping to find somewhere, anywhere, to land

as torrential rains blur my vision,

I ask myself, why must you go on?

this sisyphean task only brings suffering

still, I must fly, I must fly

 

dear god, I’m so tired

fatigued and caked with dried tears,

silently stomaching these pulsations of pain

all to avoid the serpent’s sinking sands

‘aim down, aim down’ it calls,

mimicking my mother’s voice

 

so for the love of god, keep going!

there’s nothing left for you here

with the burden of your hopes and dreams

sorrowfully refuse the void

carve your path through the sky with melodic cries

my love, my love…

there’s nothing left

release yourself from rusted chains

oh sweet songbird, fly away, fly away…

fly away, fly away…