Feather Falls

The human race

Is like the feather

That flies.

Sometimes gliding

Graceful and brave

Sometimes spinning

Out of control.

Always delicate

The balance is,

Between the

Gentle breeze and the

Wind of death and destruction.

My thoughts

Are like the feather

That falls.

Hard to catch

They don't know me.

They only comprehend the

Beauty they want

To see.

Seemly caught in the

Drifting crowd

They don't see the desperation

Or the way it falls apart.

You

Are like the feather

That is handled.

Not knowing what

You've gotten into

Until

I catch you

And rip you apart like you did

To me.