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Here’s an older one:
Longing
Inside, a conscious spirit flees from the flesh that binds it to a rage
Past lives attract it like a moth to a baneful flame
With hopes to stay while midnight walks the boulevard
Waking pains the fragile mind that longs innocence
Summoning the escaping specter back to the cage of
A discontent and dissonant cry of a child
We�re hoping for a shift of change.
A reset of what already came.
It�s possible, but someone�s stalling with their omnipotent words.
So paradise is still-framed through the window to the park
Where we�d play with the charms of conquering our no fears.
Images of mischief and the psychotic sounds of a human mind make them all reminisce
While colors you�ve never seen before and textures that shouldn�t exist, play over your hands.
And the answers to the impossible questions are as simple as the reflection in a pond.
So why fly up when you can descend?
Sensations of the first afflictions will never be beaten or conquered.
Just a longing to grasp what�s already there in hopes that it�s shell will shed on to you.
The dreaming will be over and a spirit will coexist at home.