Birds of Prey

Overcast skies with dark grey birds of prey

Ready to burst open

Turn everything into mire.

Whatever succeeds in overcoming the mire

And darkness

Quickly snatched by the waiting birds

The air not fresh anymore

But doped and hazy

Vague sense of direction

And nothing too familiar

Laughter that is fake

From people that are even

What happens to thoughts when they are driven off a cliff?

Or thrown so high

They don’t need to come back anymore

Do they escape?

There is never an end to anything

Or is there?

You claim that nobody understands you

But do you understand yourself?

Is there something to be understood?

Or is it too abstract?

Like everything else you say?

Is there a problem Mr. Yesterday?

Is there a solution Mr. Tomorrow?

Head first into a wall?

Or needle first into a vein?