Feeling of Being
I remain as an anchor amidst a sky of wings
An anchor falling into an ocean
of every imaginable shade of
intricate deep blue and unknown.
Gravity is known to work its toll,
thus I spiral out of control into the pit of deep blue
yet tell me why the spiraling, it never stops?
I am an anchor heading toward its own downfall amidst a sky of wings
ironically which is a symbol of hope for me
Fate must be but a cruel joke.
A weighted anchor versus weightless wings
perhaps as the heavens versus the abyss.
An anchor, the symbol of hope, the symbol of saving.
The representation of everything I am not.
The wings rise and soar above me
while I cannot help but wonder
when I will stop sinking long enoughto save myself.
I wonder if to the wings,
I am their symbol of hope
Just as the wings
will always remain as my symbol of hope.
I wonder if we are both the same,
Just one reaches the heavens
And the other sinks to the ground.
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