Turbulence of thoughts when sets,
Causes me to pick up my pen.
Weaving my words into a seatbelt,
While I am on board with Hell.

Calm flights of tranquility greet me,
The land below would hate my departure.
The birds outside sing of joy and leave,
But I can’t render my heart to ink.

Happiness sits beside me and I say,
Laments and elegies have left my place.
I’m so full of you but the birds make me jealous,
As my words for you remain unwoven.

Happiness, I want to write about you,
I want to sing a song to you, like the birds do.

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