The following is a short dramatic work by the Deisel, true, let me know what you think or thought or such.
Confessions of a shackled flier.
The sky is open engulfing what it is to be me
I once was flying I was once was free
Although I lay manacled to who it was to be him
I long for the feeling of being long away from this pity
But the pity is the waste of the wings being trimmed
Far be it from this flier to crash and succumb
To give in to the pain of soaring to become forever numb
I will rage against this temperament I will not be slave to the melancholy of burnt bridges
The allure of azure sets my angered heart to intense yearnings
I WANT to tear the sky and rifle over ridges,
I desire my flight into a sun setting on my current prison
