Feathers Under My Skin

Rootless I wonder against my balance point
 Silence unwraps the weight of being
 And there I lie
 Untouched by emotions of sort
 I fight back my own human smell
 Inhaling rain and dirt
 I find shelter under beds of leaves
 I fail to hide my claws again
 Spitting on what I'm called to be
 I scratch my skin deep down looking for feathers
 What I am is what I'm not
 Acceptance is that road
 I walk away from
 I lead with pride my own disasters
 Denying I learn
 I'll look at birds' eyes to get the answers I need
 Light pulses through my nails
 I draw my new self with it
 A spinning top in constant motion
 While my face
 Like a watchtower remains still
 My sight keeps aiming at the horizon
 As far as it can get
 Unfit to find any rest
 I wish to transfigure in rocks or sediment
 Motionless desires obstruct my run
 I can't find a way to hide from these walls
 Urban decay is black oil dripping on my wings
 I cry diamonds of salt
 I feed myself with them
 Every drop cuts my throat deep to the spine
 Till my voice shrinks to a bloody wisper
 Lost among the lost
 I keep moving
 While my feet can't find any grip on the ground
 I refuse the colours I see
 I'll feed crows with my eyeballs
 And keep just darkness for me
 I keep just darkness for me
 What I am is what I am not
 What I am not is what I'm cursed to be.