I Fly

Sometimes the world sucks. Life is hard and then we die.

My heart will break into a hundred tiny mirror fragments, seven years bad luck. I reach and miss, and I hit the ground and I break. But I always put myself back together. Piece by piece, painstakingly glued back together with happy memories and hope. Rebuilt anew, different but the same, stronger but still frail from the fall.

And sometimes instead of falling and picking up all the pieces, I run scared. And I run, and run, and run. I run because I am so tired so exhausted of my life and the world. Because it hurts like broken glass in open wounds. And I run until it hurts to think anymore, which is the whole point. And I Can't stop because I'm scared, so I keep going until the soles of my shoes are ground to dust and my feet bleed from overuse. I keep going because even though I hurt it's better than thinking, it's easier than thinking. I can't stop.

So sometimes I need somebody to trip me and let me hit the ground. Cause if they catch me, will I learn?

Sometimes the saving is in the act of making me fall. And most times it ends there. I trip and I fall and I get back up and move on, just slightly better off than I was. Slightly stronger, slightly smarter.

But sometimes, sometimes I get tripped and I fall to hit the ground but somehow, I miss. I miss the ground and then all there is, is to fly. And instead of coming back ever so slightly better than before I am the phoenix rising and I can fly.