:: Boy In Corner ::

:: Thursday, July 03, 2003 ::

Wishbone

The branch snaps.

I start falling, already curling up into a ball,
And suddenly I start to stall,
The fall broken by something more powerful than I,
I can explain my feelings but my eyes start to cry.
Confusion starts to disappate,
And words spoken almost too late seems to soften the drop.
I should stop,
Mid-air and ponder these things,
The baggage to which I cling,
The tell-tale songs playing to which you sing.
And I am sorry.
So I say I'm sorry, and more tears descend,
My world for a second I try to upend,
But the tree is forgiving, strength it lends,
But it depends on how much I'm willing to give,
And the way in which I choose to live,
My thoughts I do now try to sieve,
And your tender branches I don't want to leave.
My heart speaks true, things aren't mutually exclusive for me,
And I hope you can accept and see, that somethings are just a part of me,
But because I seem to be locked, tied, and somewhat chained,
Doesn't mean that losing you wouldn't fill me with pain.
Insane I'd be to let you go,
My sewn heart wants to embrace your leafy boughs,
And drink your sap like sweet milk from cows,
Let me hold you gently and enclose you tight,
Because I want you to be the only one in my sight.
I'm sorry I'm weighted down by these past frowns I've made,
But in your branches I have laid,
And no where else do I want to sleep,
Then among your lofty heights above this world of sheep.

Thank you.

:: Rick Kitagawa 2:50 PM [+] ::
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