I was not always quite this mad.
There was someone, once.
Someone whom I drove away,
Long before he knew.

Someone once whispered,
deep in the dark,
that someday soon, I would soar.
That I would rise untouched from the ashes,
Leap, and the wind would swallow me with a roar.

We sat huddled in the mud
for but a few more minutes
until he grew his wings-
Stellar, magnificent
(just like him).
He grew his wings,
And he flew away.

Two days, I grieved.
Then, I learned.
I taught myself:
that strength was solitude.
So I built my fortress,
Tall and strong.
The bricks cut into my fingers
For anyone to see,
“Here stands a fortress-dweller,
Whose wings were killed by fear.”

I taught myself:
That there was more to life than dreams of flight.
So I made my suit of armour,
From metal and the weight of my heart.

I taught myself
That freedom would ensnare me.
So I rode into battle,
Day by day,
Until the only foe was me.
Then I fought myself,
Day by day,
Until the madness took me,
Swift and bare.

Today I stare at the pink of a setting sun
Through the gaps in the brick.
All at once,
Ripping through my shoulder blades,
They arrive.
My wings.
They are shrunken, shrivelled and bloody
(just like me).

I try to take flight
But the scars of my sins anchor me.
I try to scale the wall
But the scars on my hands restrain me.
I try to plead
But the scars on my sanity forbid me.

So I sleep,
Cold to the bone,
Shackled for eternity.
As my eyes slide shut, I hope.
I hope, once more,
For two people huddled in the dark,
Sharing secrets and a laugh.
This time, I wouldn’t drive him away.
This time, I would hope-
For a stellar, magnificent flight.

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