Wingless...still high.
As the colour of the sky vanishes,
Sucked back into the vacuum.
Pain, Cold, Heat.
The colours of the painting,
Drip down the wall,
Your blood...crimson no more,
These open wounds ache,
No more.
Then you realize the Nirvana fading,
You know the truth,
Pain it still hurts, world is not full of colours,
Nor is life.
As my Nirvana fades,
I reach for the man made compounds,
Slowly it kills,
My soul knows not.
In the end,
I fly again,
Soaring higher than the birds,
But this time,
Without my wings...
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