Is it my mind that binds my wings?
The chains of fear, reflections of hurt.
Or that theres no sky to swim in dreams?
Blocking the bickering space and hope.

Could it be that strength and power dried on?
Seeking company in both weary and worn.
Or that i grope in the warmth of none?
Gasping, not asking, in an internal war.

Perhaps its the map that's lost its place?
Where an unwritten journey muffles its song.
Or hiding in the readers current state?
In a time where now, theres nothing wrong.


by em x

...a journal entry just doesnt do justice in expressing myself sometimes. lets stick with poetry this time