Flying Writers

Is it wrong,
To do wrong to belong?
Is it true,
Life is a sad song?

It feels good,
It can't be all wrong.
It feels right,
Like writing new song.

Might I take,
All the life I love?
Lose the hate,
Through a funnel from above.

What a hazzard,
What a disaster.
Life is a mess,
Rolled through wet plaster.

Told to be still.
To hold without laughter.
To wait to dry.
To become an actor.

With Script in hand,
Unable to move,
Redundant play,
Tough to elude.

For the Few we wait,
To break free of the mold.
For most are scared,
Ready, willing to hold.

Scripting life,
Bare, clean, naked stage.
Now is the time,
To turn new page.

In new life,
I will find love.
Forget hate,
Come laughter come love.

Lifting off ground,
Surging through sky,
Freelance we are,
Writing on the fly.

Every new page,
We write without proof,
Now we know,
Solid ground a spoof.