The lights. Shining on us.
Like stars.
The people. Staring at us. Like we're surreal.
The chears. Coming for us. So loudly.
The bars. Coming towards us.
Breathing heavily.
Jump. Grab on. Fly, through the air. Be one with
The sky.
Fly through the air.
Our souls
Will never die.
Do what feels natural
Do what impresses.
Do what you want to
Until your heartbeat lessens.
Fly
Through the air
Like birds
On their wings.
Move
All around
Like it's breathing air. Natrually.
Look, all around. There's a croud. Impress. Don't feel stress. Do your thing. Fly
Happily.
So
Many times.
We've flown
Through the sky.
But the birds
lost their wings.
So
Many things.
So
Many thoughts.
Fall
In the sky.
This bird
Is going to die.
Wings
Are no more
Flying's
Like a chore.
Scream.
Chrip loudly.
Your baby bird
Still has its wings.
Yet
It can't fly
Through the sky
To the wingless.
Fall
To the ground
Screams
All around.
Tears
From the bird
In the nest.
Did he do his best?
The wingless
Lay on the floor.
Splayed out.
Wings not on them
Any more.
The baby bird
Chirps.
But the parents
Don't respond
On the ground.
Wings are gone.
The wingless
Have died
But their souls
Will arise.
High
In the sky
The baby
Bird flys.
Wings
Like no other
Flying like his mother.
Wings
All spread out
Flying
In the air.
Soaring
Through the winds.
Their souls.
Are there.
Fly
In
The
Air.
A/N A poem I wrote in honor of Dick Grayson and his past. It makes more sense if you consider that he wrote it, because I did (try) to write it in his prospective.