Young (In Love With Ourselves)

One day,
you’ll return to your roots;

humbled as if wingless,

because for your tigress heart,
the wings are merely trinkets,
distraction from
true art.

One day,
you will forget how to fly, and
oh yes, you will be grounded by
flashes before your eyes,

the most loved close by, but only if
you kept your
enemies
closest.

Old history,
great rivalries revived,
roses growing of blood that was
long left to dry.

One day,
you’ll be
more broken than ever
yet complete,
closer to legacy than
liveliness,

one for the
books,

a flawless design.

One day, you’ll
be gone but you will
always be mine in theory,

and that silhouette will trail
every inch of
sky behind me,

flying away from
what made us want to climb
the clouds.

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One thought on “Young (In Love With Ourselves)

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