fourth person

in the eyes of a glass bottle
is this how it envisioned
fragile old me

i am an airplane model
but never will i get the chance to fly

where there’s a will
there’s dismay
in every thought that the caged brain has made

this mirror is transparent
rarely reflective
who’s the barest of them all in this mirrored perspective

cause i’m crystal near
crystallized ice on my beer
god’s taken my steering wheel

and every time i reach the summit
i’m icarus reaching too high
and down to my rightful place is where i plummet

rightfully so
heaven is meant for those who don’t have weight on their shoulders
so i fall through clouds benign onto a tax bracket that acts as a place holder


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