Soar

This is for the wounded birdswhose lives esculate the broken airways over the waves of dispair.

soar

this one is for the growing trees whose leaves breathe deep my exhaust and reach toward the sky to spite

soar

this is for the bedraggled friends whose life is a constant coffee spill staining your shirt in a way...

that? works?

soar

this one is for the hopeless plastic sack whose weightlessness floats aimlessly in simplistic beauty none can match

soar