Many more, many more

escaping

I am a prisoner outside the bar
A prisoner that travels near and far
My uncracked shell is lugged with my broken pieces
What do you see?
I am a broken piece…
A shipwrecked in the middle of the calm sea,
And body floats on the wavy side of the waters,

a soul slips into death to runaway
leaving his body for the chains
that tied into the belief he’d become a sugar cane—
story of a boy who found his way.
anyone whose hands feel like a kite
should know feathers are soon to come
and bake his or her bones into light,
so the sky can live ghosts into what they become.
so how do you think you will fly?

Tochi X Ruddapoet