I Want To Fly
1/1
When will I fly? When will my body cease to work? When can I rip off my skin and float? How can I run away? How will I make them understand? That my heart is broken and my wings are gone. When will I run with no shoes in the snow? How can I kill myself? When will my mom come back? When will my sister stop crying? How can I make you believe that I need help?
Flying. You and me. Over the airplanes, over the clouds. You're holding me. Your fingers gripped tight onto my sides. My head is going to explode. Into little pieces onto the ground. And when the people pass by, they'll know of me. They'll stop and stare. Waiting for us to fall. Maybe we'll go down in history. But, we'll just be two other people who died. No one will give a fuck. It will be another day. They won't even notice we're gone. They'll step on our bodies and the children will draw on us with chalk, like we're a part of the sidewalk. Our bodies will be flat, red, decomposed. And no one will even pick us up. We'll lay there and become entwined with the concrete. Will they know what I said to you before we died? Will they know how much we loved each other? Will they care about our age, ethnicity, gender, our orientation? Will our family recognize us? Will you get a proper burial? Will I be properly cremated? Will they remember us? No. No. No. No. Danielle and Yazmene, meet the ground.
Flying. You and me. Over the airplanes, over the clouds. You're holding me. Your fingers gripped tight onto my sides. My head is going to explode. Into little pieces onto the ground. And when the people pass by, they'll know of me. They'll stop and stare. Waiting for us to fall. Maybe we'll go down in history. But, we'll just be two other people who died. No one will give a fuck. It will be another day. They won't even notice we're gone. They'll step on our bodies and the children will draw on us with chalk, like we're a part of the sidewalk. Our bodies will be flat, red, decomposed. And no one will even pick us up. We'll lay there and become entwined with the concrete. Will they know what I said to you before we died? Will they know how much we loved each other? Will they care about our age, ethnicity, gender, our orientation? Will our family recognize us? Will you get a proper burial? Will I be properly cremated? Will they remember us? No. No. No. No. Danielle and Yazmene, meet the ground.