Meant To Fly Poem by David Knox

I know, with all that is in me
That the first line is whack
But when the yellow duck quacked
From the rat-a-tat attack
I was playing blackjack
Every night, in the city
during the full moon in which it is at its fullest
I dreamt of the man with the little black hat
walking backwards under the porch
With a torch in search of the very thing he lacked
It is funny how logically it seems not all things can be
But what is to be- and what can be- mix, mash, and muddle together in perfect harmony
Further intensifying the dichotomy of possbility
It's not a fact but I'll make a pact
To Rid myself of every lie and wash my hands of my disguise
If only I had one more try. To tell you what I've kept inside
Because all my life I've cried and cried when really I was meant to fly
I thought the only repentence was to ddie
But now I see the price is paid when the gift is given
It's only without the weight of sin we can truly reach the sky