Soar
Life controlled by the mass
True independence but a gas.
To familiar folk, minds on presents past
But I could never be.
The world repeats
Apples from trees
Crowding together, orchards of disease.
Shan't we grow where we please?
Nay, lest shade is what we seek.
The hive it hates the lonely bug
That tries to soar as eagle does.
When I join the clouds above
I hope that they can see.
Copyright © Olin Poems By | Year Posted 2015
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