Feathers Under My Skin

Rootless I wonder against my balance point
Silence unwraps the weight of being
And there I lie
Untouched by emotions of sort

I fight back my own human smell
Inhaling rain and dirt
I find shelter under beds of leaves
I fail to hide my claws again

Spitting on what I'm called to be
I scratch my skin deep down looking for feathers
What I am is what I'm not

Acceptance is that road
I walk away from
I lead with pride my own disasters
Denying I learn

I'll look at birds' eyes to get the answers I need
Light pulses through my nails
I draw my new self with it

A spinning top in constant motion
While my face
Like a watchtower remains still
My sight keeps aiming at the horizon
As far as it can get

Unfit to find any rest
I wish to transfigure in rocks or sediment
Motionless desires obstruct my run
I can't find a way to hide from these walls
Urban decay is black oil dripping on my wings

I cry diamonds of salt
I feed myself with them
Every drop cuts my throat deep to the spine
Till my voice shrinks to a bloody wisper

Lost among the lost
I keep moving
While my feet can't find any grip on the ground
I refuse the colours I see
I'll feed crows with my eyeballs
And keep just darkness for me
I keep just darkness for me

What I am is what I am not
What I am not is what I'm cursed to be.