Fly

If the stars are but a singularity,
Then what of the heart,
As it beats so slowly,
Struggling,
Before it twists apart.
There is an air to the fire,
New life departed from ol' hopes and dreams,
Yet it is for not.
Ache in your soul,
If you must,
For no one will look to your face,
Barren with scars and rotten flesh,
Eroded by time,
And they fear what is uncertain.
Crack the bones,
Twist & turn,
Let them know your pain,
For tomorrow sings the lonely blue bird,
"I'll soon be a Raven, again..."