Wrapped up in consequences,

so concerned with what happens

in those small hours,

between nine and five.

Trapped almost fairly,

but they can’t assuage

the part of you

that watches as you die.


You used to have wings.

Where did they go?

All of these things

are a weight on your soul.

You used to treasure

the endless unknown,

now the only time you dream

is when you’re asleep;

I guess success is dying slow.


You used to own the night.

I remember seeing you

stand up against the sky

and the only thing that gave you

any defined lines

was the dark shape

where there were no stars.


Then when dawn came,

you would stand

to greet the sun;

ablaze with orange light

burning around

your silhouette.


but aflame;

cold as the night,

but burning away,

everything that needed to fade.

The stars in your eyes

should have remained.


Need I remind you,

you’re not who they say?

You’re an infinite child,

an unusual thing.

Prosperous mind,

curious ways.

No fear in your heart,

just a fire that awaits,

to burn away nightfall;


What you are

should only

fuel the blaze.


Heart knows it’s true,

you’ve traded away

your place in the sky

for a promise of weight.

Holding you down

and dimming you out;

it’s time you found your wings

and said “Good-bye”

to the ground.


We’ll always be here,

staying the same,

but you were meant to change.

You can be something

that we can’t explain;

don’t let anything stand in your way.

Don’t die in a cage.


HG – 2017

2 thoughts on “Unusual

  1. Wow, I can really relate to this poem. I particularly love “I guess success is dying slow”. I have long been battling against this for a long time now. I don’t want that to be my success. I am striving to make it something else. I am striving to make the best use of my wings. Beautiful words.

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