Colors of these Wings



C O L O R S   O F    T H E S E    W I N G S




Hey you,

why do you have this affect on me?

Why do I think of you in my daydreams?


Is it because of your eyes?

Or is the dimple in your chin.

Maybe the lines that grace your face when you smile.


I am a fool.

The king of them all.

For I hope in foolish things.

You deserve more than me

and I less then you.

Does anybody deserve anybody anymore?


When I look at you

my chest quivers

what is happening to me?

why did I fall like this?

why did I fall like this?

why did I fall like this?


Am I sick?

Or am I feeble-minded?

When you walk by – I smell your fragrance,

and I grow dizzy by it.


When you embrace me –

I melt.

And why?

I cannot explain it.


It is just that way.

Perhaps I will run to the desert and hide there,

where no one will find me.

But I cannot escape the thoughts of you.


I am so immature –

When Will I grow up.

When will I be invulnerable?

When will I get over you?


The highlight of a day –

is a word from you.

The highlight of a week –

a conversation.


Yes I am a man,

and you are a woman.

And I, I am not yet dead –

to these things.


I am dying though!

Please let it happen now!

Free me! But it is so slow.

It takes so much time.

And there seems so little purpose in it all.


Why do you even talk to me?

Why do you even smile at me – in passing?

It was so much easier before –

when you didn’t…


I am a little boy in a man’s body.

I want to grow up.

I want to grow up.

I want to grow up .


I can’t just yet.

I must bear yet more foolish emotions


I wish you did have favor for me, though…


I wouldn’t have to die.

As I am going to.

As I am going to.

As I am going to.


What if you did?

What if I was man enough to confront you,

and there was a glimmer of it there:

Favor for me in your eyes.

What if I was both a coward, and a fool,

and a man.

Surely the latter is worst.


To be an man,

and –

Feel this way.

Feel this way.

Feel this way.


See here,

these are my wings –

and for these fleeting moments –

I fly around before you,

seven years I was cocooned   –

and now I am escaped.

I am ashamed of my colors.

And I want to hide them from you.

But I am not strong enough,

and again

and again

and again

I spread them and say,

are these not my wings?

do they not beat only for you?

And then I run and hide them again –

and curse them.

For they are so ugly.


I walk into this desert now.

Let me die here.

Let this all end.

I am so tired.

I am so tired.

I am so tired.





About hollerscholar

I'm a theology & philosophy student, writer, web developer, and medical laboratory professional.
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