The Birds That Fly in Different Directions

“At the edge of this lonely place,”
“At this crossroads of twilight.”
“I still stay, I’m still here,”
“Waiting for the day,”
“Awaiting the moment, I can fly again;”
In this place, I awake in a daze.
Still between dreams and reality,
I’m close to falling asleep.
So close to the birds,
The birds that fly in different directions,
To the sky’s edge.
Everything has changed,
Everything will never truly stay the same.
It aches to watch,
It hurts to lose it all,
All those places full of stories,
Our stories.
It’s when I remember,
It’s when I think,
That I always go back there.
To the edge of this lonely place,
At this crossroads of twilight.
Where I can see that other place,
That place full of glass stars,
My heart made of glass stars.
I always come, 
The place where I still stay,
Waiting for the day,
Awaiting the moment, I can fly again.
Still between dreams and reality,
I’m close to falling asleep.
So close to the birds,
The birds that fly in different directions,
To the sky’s edge.
The birds that I can only watch from here.
Yet it’s always the stars I see first,
Its always the stars that remind me.
That life is a gift.
One that I know someday ends.
One thought I try to bury deep within.
Don’t remind me,
I already know.
I’m already caught in the tangled string of red,
That other me is still there.
At the edge of this lonely place,
At this crossroads of twilight.
So close to the birds,
The birds that fly in different directions,
To the sky’s edge,
To that place full of glass stars,
The place where you are.
I knew I could never follow you,
I knew my broken form,
These wings made of paper and dreams,
Wouldn’t be able to truly fly.
Though…
I still stay, I’m still here,
Waiting for the day,
Awaiting the moment, I can fly again.
Waiting again and again,
Hoping as I watch,
As I lose the places we once shared together,
As I lose myself to the escape of dreams.
To the place of my creation,
My sanctuary,
My cage,
My glass heart.
At the edge of this lonely place,
At this crossroads of twilight.
So close to the birds,
The birds that fly in different directions.
I still stay, I’m still here,
Till the moment I fly like a bird,
To the sky’s edge,
To that other place;
“I remain lost among a forest of books,”
“Entangled by red string,”
“As I hold and watch the flickering lights,”
“Held by glass stars,”
“I’m still here, I’m still here till…”
“Till someday;”