Falling Up

Loathing thoughts of woe is me,

tailored in a suit stitched with

my heart for sleeves.

I ask for strength to carry on,

or at the very least, eyes to see

where I've gone wrong.

Pushed to my limits and beyond,

I am falling up, steadily rising

above the clouds, and most likely,

you can't see me now.

As I might have already,

conceivably and decisively disappeared

into the atmosphere.