Something like Peter Pan

Writings From a Rut

"What an efforted climb that looks to be"

So there I lay, in the hollowed deep rabbit hole with the blue light at the center perimeter of my vision.

Walls of muck and dirt of the hole in which I for someone else had dug.

No clouds traveling in slow pacts,

No birds fly by

Just the sky.

I would, in a way like to not live there

But only to live around there.

Instead I am down here.

I am only the manish fae I am.

Here where I was born

In all I have known for the most of my days.

I grow tired of falling out of the sky.

Coercing my wings into once more their so called beautiful aerial alchemy.

I lay here with my hand throbbing

For I never seem to tire until I have had too much of the thing the humans call "street lights".

I enjoy the sky

However I grow tired.

The streetlight and its burn produce a new sensation at every meeting.

However I know it will burn me.

I would not like to live there,

only to be around it,

without feeling as I do afterwards.

My retina's have begun to stop seeing light the same,

I am more used to the dark.

So as i stare,

Near catatonic,

Into the sky.

Oh how I wish,

I could trust myself to leave,

without hurting myself

Once again.

Author's Note

Open to criticisms. Thank you for reading.