hundred acres of fence

i sit
in a parking garage
the sparrows flit
among the sun dappled
branches of a
glorious green oak
through a shiny
new chainlink fence
momentarily distracted
by the fact
i am the caged soul
while those
hollow boned
happy balls of fluff
have a freedom
i could never
truly imagine

i tried
to teach myself
to fly
threw myself off of
the roof
with the best intentions
of not falling
it didn’t work
but for a fraction
of a second
right after the jump
before gravity
remembered i was there
and maybe i was
just chasing that feeling
my mania always
craving a new rush

i wonder if
all the animals
of the hundred acre woods
were just the shattered
pieces of young
christopher robin
the author a
bipolar mess
using brightly colored
stuffed animals
as representations
of his broken mind
my mania is pooh
my depression eeyore
piglet is anxiety
and i am caged
in a parking garage
watching the birds
wanting to jump
but i remember
the fall wasn’t so bad
it was the stop
that left much
to be desired

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