Mother's Feathers: black Balloons Poem by Adrian Jascha Tetzlaff

Pale, tiny, skinny legs carrying me while viewing the holy sea.
Standing here, the gray landside, smooth vicinity not a single tree.

Lips still moist as I observe the moving skyline,
Dusty clouds, my savior angel already passed by.

The cage, dissipated where I wasted my time,
Now I'm here at the gray, depressing land side.

Thrown here with my enemy, called responsibility,
Being forced to end my friendship with demise,
I should have been thinking of any kind of tranquility,
Not really easy, disfigured body which is the cause of miserable lies.

Broken, pierced toenails, to cover my tiny toes,
Not easy tearing out the nails of my hand.
Only you're with me when I'm far away from you, sounds of croaking crows,
The flower which I should embrace turns to sand.

Is there any purpose here if you unlearn to fly?
No answers for me, my legs shuddering, never-ending empty sky.

The spit slowly starts to rot out, my mouth completely dried,
The land side decorated with blue flowers, called beautiful time.

Every body part just a lie, fed up with lies, my background full of lies, my eyes present me only lies.
There isn't any gray land side, my thoughts a stupidity packed as a lie,
Faking a smile a silly lie, the motivation, only an imagery, a lie.

My stomach turns, now I only feel what hurts.

The legs too thin holding these burdens,
When is it going to widen up, the curtain?

My hands accomplished in wounds, scratches on my closed cocoon,
No escape visible, cannot let go of them, the black balloons.