Come with me, say the waves enticingly, but I know I’ll sink.
The birds throw inviting glances when they rest on me, but I don’t wish to pull them down with my weight.
The clouds flirt with everything they touch, and but refuse to own the damage they can inflict by bursting.
The ships can carry me, but they choose to use me as an anchor.
How I wish I was on an island, where one can see only the horizon … the illusion nobody has touched, nor will I.
The concrete is very real, very reachable for others. But my immobility restricts me. I envy all those who manage to get there. Negative emotions weigh me down all the more.