Everyday

Everyday I am trapped in a dimension Where only repetition exists, That reoccurs the colour theme of black. But the windows are very visible from the doom, Delineating bright sunlight and pavement colour of the moon. Best of all, I can see the birds flapping their mighty wings. I unfold my arms with barely any strength, And reach for them, Hoping to become one of them. Again. Every night and morning when the outside of the windows, Is beautifully shaded with calming grey that mellows. And when it is painted in soft blended colour of thick orange and light yellow, Birds fly between South and North through the colour of fallow. I can tell very easily without effort, Each of them holds great stories Because I was like them once, Who also held great stories. Yes, I was one of those birds, With pride and strength, That glided through the treasure sites, And enjoyed when the warm breeze kissed my cheeks Over golden sparkling oceans. But now my wings are broken, Memories and valuables torn apart in ashes, In to pieces that cannot be glued back. So I always whisper to myself, With solemn remorse, I sure do miss those days.