Flight

If only one could see oneself as small,

Unafraid by one's own fall.

One concerns oneself with critiques

On what one shall wear and how one shall speak,

In a dress honorable and sayings which flatter.

Oneself too large in one's little box of life.

made the main character in a plot always played.

Stretched across one's mind, heavily weighed.

But woe to that man, for if he could learn

To little himself, to the length of a worm,

Give himself the attention of only a few moments,

And he would greatly expand in his own absence.

His head filled no more by his constant echo.

No longer caged by his own ego.

But escape the thoughts of his empty impressions.

Flying, free from his feeble prison.

He shall seep through the bars of his old strifes, 

And in his death, he shall find new life

under a new, open sky