Flight (Fist)

With beauty and grace, comes with a fist to the face

Beauty and Passion both have a certain complexion 

that one is almost always familiar with.

Slurs on the street become unwanted interrogation.

That outfit you wore just became your main complication.

And traveling alone you must proceed with severe caution.

Every sense in your body has become heightened 

Every sense in your body is telling itself to fly away.

Yet there is never a true act of flying, 

Flying is the freedom to escape from the damages. 

But the damages can never be undone.

So when that reptitious fist connects with your face,

you can never rise up from the ground.

Cemented hands protrude from the freezing hard Earth seizing your body,

holding you down.

And your wings, those beautiful fragile wings.

They have sunken so low into the soil you can never fully fly again. 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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