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| Cyn McCurry - Out of the Storm Against the Tide |
Going round .
In the vortex.
Always charged.
I 'm aging
not taking root
in my inner
wing flapping.
What delving;
Being searching.
Still stiring.
Wandering.
I'm afraid.
Wild the humans,
I miss you.
No real aid.
I become silly
every role
me to feign,
to breathe freely.
If I come in,
you escape.
If I had you
to be serene!
The end took form,
as in the start
I thought living.
Near's the storm!
