Only in broken dreams
Will you fly with
Those paper wings
And inspire envy
For those trivial things
Psalms and hexes
You kiss and tell
Lips that glisten
With prayers and spells
You're trapped within
The freedom it brings
In this mind set
You flitter about
Like a moth caught
In a child's net
You're a dreamless mass
Within a jar
Of red stained glass
On puppet strings
But on your back
You proudly wear
Mache annexes
Meaning everything
From newspaper clips
And old magazines
You've carefully crafted
Those paper wings
But they will crumple
From the weight of
Your desires and the
Real of things
You'll wake one day
With raw shoulder blades
And realize paper cuts
Do sting