Plummet(1/2)

I missed again.

right when I thought I had it-

Just yesterday, grasping it in my hands

Filling me whole,

rows of the calendar filled with green checks,

when I soared above the concrete

that once trapped me within.

I was already seeing a misplacement,

a shift in the winds.

But,

I was wrong.

So wrong, that even I may not believe

that the smile I once had

could ever be regained.

Why, when after all those long nights

from morning to midnight

must I lose?

Even my success has to be destroyed,

after everything else I've just earned

is lost?

Challenged by hands of those

creating a wall around me,

stretching on forever,

closing in more

no matter which direction I pivot.

Preying along the winds,

not missing even a speck of dirt,

devoted to my work.

Decades more until

I find myself

lifted above the clouds so far

I can see the rings of saturn.

Only during the night

can every tear of mine

melt with the rythmic hum

from the computer.

Only during the day

can my cheeks ache

from smile lines.

Each step lifting me higher

towards the light

where only the brightest

could walk.

Then a rock came,

propelled by gravity

from the direction of those below.

Should I give them a medal of honor,

for redefining what's impossible?

For finding joy in cutting all the strings

that prevented me from living

among the ants,

tiny dots suffocated deep

within earth's core?

Yes, I applaud them,

for shredding my wings apart

as I plummet deep,

below the platform of which I started.

Eyes glinting, flickering to my ragdoll body,

my flailing bones

as I catch momentum, remnants of my storm

remain in their breath,

a past memory that never felt so distant.

They brush sweat off their forehead

as they peer down,

making sure I vanish below the end

before looking back up towards the stars

where I once was.

Stuck, helpless even as I fall:

a pinball ricocheting aimlessly,

forced into a million different paths,

unable to withstand the crippling pressure.

Slow, agonizing pain as needles stab relentlessly,

sinking with me further into the depths of the ocean.

Shattering into fragments,

pieces to never be recovered.

Scratches, worn stains along the plaster--

something only the wisest of birds

have seen on their fall back down.

Frail.

Broken.

Crumpled.

Inches like miles,

days like minutes.

Slumped under each mountain,

which I once saw as a easy step

to bypass.

Stuck in the very center, digging back out

stomped down at the trough,

pummeled under the surface

as they ride the crest

of the waves,

gaining momentum

and never stopping.

See the stars

which shine bright no matter

if it's night or day?

Their flickers

catching us more,

even so far away.

Will I ever make it,

tracing constellations with my fingertips,

with my feathers

scattered around the galaxy

once more?