My Own Wings
"The next day is a working day"
At least thats what most people say
And Ive done just that, get up and worked
At least sometimes the work entails getting up
Morning, evening, night
Rinsing and repeated like a tired wash cloth
Wringing out all the water
This is what I call "survival"
And suddenly my energy aint mine no more
Its a symbolic piece on display for others to misinterpret
When I'm spokewn for, told "this is what you are" I put my head down, shrug and nod
Confirming that that is all I could ever
Well everything is chain reaction
Looking myself in the mirror was mine
Which was odd
Because in all those mornings, evenings, and nights
I had never stopped and stared
Never dared to look at what was right in front of me
And all I could see was a broken down soul
that went by the name "Maya"
I'd gotten closer,
seen the groves in my skin,
the eyebags--all of which told a story
But what started an ended my story were my eyes, the window to the soul
that lurked inside
That resulted from years of shapeshifting, silence, and picking myself up from my bootstraps
So today I choose to liberate myself by saying, "I need rest"
In the sense that I'm soaking in the light of my own presence in present-tense
And leisurely laying in the sand of my own dreams
Today I choose to spread my wings and fly