Is there anything more freeing 

Than flying?

We always dream about

Taking our feet off the ground.

So, do we do it?

While travelling to another town?

No. 

We march there,

Taking our time, in an endless queue,

Walking and waiting,

To board a plane to somewhere new.

Even when flying,

We're nothing but

An occupied seat.

Pretending we have

Our wings spread open.

That isn't freedom to me.

The one that starts in your head.

Conquers your soul,

While you dream in your bed,

To finally take your heart,

Slowly, but steadily?

I rather have that instead.