The Wind

If I were to swallow the entire

bottle,take them all instead

of one, these vacant halls would 

remain dead.


If I were to drain myself into the tub,

slit my wrists, and watch the blood-

flow-these silent rooms,

wouldn't flood.


Everything is dark and quiet,

filled with no trace of life.

These people are just spirits, that shift

through the house, conforming 

to society's standards, ever changing.


If I were to drink a sip too much,

take a handful too many,

cut too deep, or try to fly-

with a noose around my neck;

I would be free.


I would be up with the birds- flying.

My soul at peace, at rest.

There would be no sadness, no tears-

only bliss.


Free. Untouchable. Unseeable.

I wouldn't be a prisoner- of

myself or anyone else- I would be 

the Wind.


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