Wiry shadows

Too much freedom


The rain tastes bitter
On his tongue,
It forms puddles in the sky,
The moon, like a silver fish,
Dances across them.

And then the sun,
Shy like a young girl,
Shines into the ruins
Of forsaken thought;
He shivers, naked.

An unaccustomed shudder
Runs through his spine.
And when he breaks all chains
To fly away,
He tears his wings too.

And then it is a falling,
Through bitter rain
And scarring light
A falling,
From too much freedom.