Radish White Icicle

barely alive on 2 AM airline

My past is just the places I've passed

The windows were tinted

My eyes were half shut

My focus is fragile

If my heart is a glass

Here lies the ruins of a little known author

There go the ashes of a dying dream

It's hard to sit down

When your hometown is a greyhound

Now I'm exhausted and

There's no time to sleep

I'm gathering leaves from

A once beautiful tree

Which no one else will have

The chance now to see

Or climb

It burning miles at a time

It's mine is mine