When they die.
I will be free. Set free like a bird.
Parting with it's cage.
Like the ocean baring her first waves.
Like that frog in the pond, taking it's first leap.
And like the moon, having his first eclipse.
When a new life is brought into our world, and that first whimper is made. As small and fragile as it may be, you still grasp it like there's no tomorrow and hold it with unconditional love.
When they die.
Maybe your worlds will crumble and tear like the cotton of my tights.
Or maybe they'll thrive.
And you'll be set free.
I will be free.
Free, like the dust that my house drowns in.
And like the waves of light travelling through the wires.
They're so flawless, but almost as empty as me.
