Pages on my spine
The wings growing on my spine, like pages of a book
With each page full of doodles I have been drawing
What do I see? Something funny. Something Sad. Something happy. Something weird.
They say I am about half to become half younger than myself on the day I die
And that the World expects me to become like them.
At times I wonder if I am special or just weird.
Taking turns that no one took and banging on the closed doors
wondering who took my keys and why.
Did I fail? Yes I did. Was of course flamboyant.
These dreams, i dress them up in tuxedos, like those fancy magicians.
Except that the tricks are for myself, not for any audience, yet.
I watched the cards fall while shuffling and rifling,
trying to perfect the tricks. All done in silence with one audience.
Why do you clap I wonder? Why do you sit back and wait for me to succeed I wonder.
They call me mad for chasing the weird dreams.
These abstract dreams I still can't form into a concrete image
Make me think they may be right but then I see you clapping.
With that innocent yet tenacious look,
all i see is your lips moving and hands clapping and I always
Always wonder what you're saying.
Sometimes i wish i could tear down a few pages from my spine
but then I wouldn't be me if i did that. Would I?
At times with these cancerous thoughts eating away all the flesh
left to die with just bare bones, you wrapped my bones in skin
Ate the cancerous time, as if taking away my sickness onto yourself.
I always wonder why I couldn't be you at this point of time.
Did I draw something beautiful yet? No.
People say they find beautiful things to pursue and invest time to marry her.
Am I the people? Yes. Surely I am.
Just that the beauty isn't visible to my eyes. Did I fail? May be.
But everyone sees the beauty there is to it someday, so will I.
Because I see you sitting there waiting for my tricks to appear as magnificent as my looks.
And then may be the pages on my spine will fetch a place in the history.
If not the history the world will get to know,
Wouldn't I be satisfied if I could help people grow strong wings on their spines?
Would I? Do you know?
Will you still clap then, still sit there to watch me unfold my beautiful wings
Like those of a butterfly, vivid and vibrant, spreading joy
Would you be happy then? Like you were back when you were a kid.
The one with dreams that none could understand except the you with half grown wings.
Will you still applaud?
With each page full of doodles I have been drawing
What do I see? Something funny. Something Sad. Something happy. Something weird.
They say I am about half to become half younger than myself on the day I die
And that the World expects me to become like them.
At times I wonder if I am special or just weird.
Taking turns that no one took and banging on the closed doors
wondering who took my keys and why.
Did I fail? Yes I did. Was of course flamboyant.
These dreams, i dress them up in tuxedos, like those fancy magicians.
Except that the tricks are for myself, not for any audience, yet.
I watched the cards fall while shuffling and rifling,
trying to perfect the tricks. All done in silence with one audience.
Why do you clap I wonder? Why do you sit back and wait for me to succeed I wonder.
They call me mad for chasing the weird dreams.
These abstract dreams I still can't form into a concrete image
Make me think they may be right but then I see you clapping.
With that innocent yet tenacious look,
all i see is your lips moving and hands clapping and I always
Always wonder what you're saying.
Sometimes i wish i could tear down a few pages from my spine
but then I wouldn't be me if i did that. Would I?
At times with these cancerous thoughts eating away all the flesh
left to die with just bare bones, you wrapped my bones in skin
Ate the cancerous time, as if taking away my sickness onto yourself.
I always wonder why I couldn't be you at this point of time.
Did I draw something beautiful yet? No.
People say they find beautiful things to pursue and invest time to marry her.
Am I the people? Yes. Surely I am.
Just that the beauty isn't visible to my eyes. Did I fail? May be.
But everyone sees the beauty there is to it someday, so will I.
Because I see you sitting there waiting for my tricks to appear as magnificent as my looks.
And then may be the pages on my spine will fetch a place in the history.
If not the history the world will get to know,
Wouldn't I be satisfied if I could help people grow strong wings on their spines?
Would I? Do you know?
Will you still clap then, still sit there to watch me unfold my beautiful wings
Like those of a butterfly, vivid and vibrant, spreading joy
Would you be happy then? Like you were back when you were a kid.
The one with dreams that none could understand except the you with half grown wings.
Will you still applaud?
Good one Aion��
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