For 12 months we tried to fight the cloth tied over our face
Begging to be free, pleading for control back of our spaces
When the days brought flowers again, the hope rose
The belief was that normalcy would return
We untied, dismantled, and tore off our masks
Jubilated to feel free of this grasp
Instead, what was found was both desolate and perplexing
Normal had nowhere to go
Except back into our purposeless pit
The place that held who we believed we were and wanted to be
Normal began to feel more like a fraud than a foundation
Yes, our breathe could flow in and out of our inlet
But still felt imprisoned in our cavity, so tight
Relationship was rigid and stiff
Both with ourselves and fellow peers
Our feelings and tempers rioting inside
Blurting out our inadequacies far and wide
After 2 short moons
It was recommended to tie that cloth back to our faces
Which we did in most places
A feeling of ease at this cumbersome taskTo keep the monster behind our mask
i'm yearning to fall into a space. a space where the only things that make sense are the songs sung by birds, the noises strewn about from leaves. A place that isn't the roof I sleep under, or the desk I sit at. Sometimes it lies behind my eyelids. sometimes I find it sitting in my car with the tears falling. a place where the wind is playing with my hair, and my hand is being held. i'm pining for the pines. a hole that might swallow me up and spit me into that fresh spruce smell. The rain in the pines aroma. The crystal of snow on the tips of their cones. i feel wedged between seemingly polar opposite wants/worlds. Maybe it's a millennial thing, but is that bad? to yearn to fly... to cover the plains, forests, deserts of the world. the consistent restlessness sitting on your shoulders, your blades pushing them back, and towards the sky. but what about this "home" people talk about. The thing everyone goes back to, where it seems the hardest memories lie. The...
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