I'm staring
waiting for the doors to open and
for the flood to come
from the black doors where I came.
I knew no one would see me here,
no one would think to look this high.
The wind is blowing silently
no howling for now.
What was
.. and maybe what's ahead;
We don't like to think about it
We prefer not to complain
..don't we?
It all seems irrelevant anyways;
when you're sitting ten or a thousand feet up,
on a rusty, unsafe landing,
just staring up at where the clouds and the sides of the roof meet,
and maybe feeling like the whole world is flipping upside down
or maybe feeling like you're on acid...
either way,
it takes my mind off things.
And this measly town seems so much nicer,
When you can see it from that rusty, unsafe landing;
When you can see it from the clouds.
