Mend
Open me wide
And look inside.
I am sensitive
Yet, desensitized.
Am I alive?
Look at my eyes.
Am I alive?
All of my life,
I tried and tried to share.
I'd sit inside and stare,
Way the fuck out there for
A way
To someday
Repair.
But,
My wings wouldn't grow
Like I thought they would so,
I stay on the move
On a path to improve.
Leisurely leaving my memory behind.
To make something worn,
Broken, damaged, and torn,
Whole, sound, and functionally refined.