I’ve already run out of things to moan about which is quite surprising! This particular poem is inspired by various Linkin Park songs, lol.
My limbs are laden with emotion,
High hopes fly in a flurry-
Yet here we are grounded, yet we are in motion,
Nothing to give us flight
And give rest to our imagination.
Yet dream we do, scheme we do
Before even our merest whims come to fruition.
We crawl, we flap,
But we miss the rocky mountain path in our animation.
So we sit on our haunches from the comfort our porches
And dream of flying like the birds Yet we make ourselves no wings?