Color my heart,
Leave it to die.
Tell me, oh wind,
When will we fly?
When will the world, all dreary brown,
Finally learn that it can't. Keep. Me. Down.
Color my heart,
Teach me to fly.
Then knock me from heaven,
From my golden blue sky.
When will they learn that I will stay up
That my patience shall soon be full, that shallow cup.
Color my heart,
Let me me go to the wind.
Wind to wash away my earthly bind.
The wind with which I fly.
When will they learn not to stop the wind?
Oh, I know they are scared of the wind's mournful sight.
But if I can't fly
With the wind
I
Shall
Die.
*********
It apears I have written another depresing poem. Oh well. I'll have to write something happy now.
(Orange boxes make me happy...)
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