humans we are

We flail our arms up in the air
like birds preparing for flight or some
form of escape
But all we achieve is dust in our eyes,
unsettling the rocks.
Even passerbys are at risk,
our wings are musty
Their eyes are caked,
caked with all our inconceivable attempts.
Futile our attempts be, but we still try.
Try to loose this hallow ground
and spring upon the vibrating atoms in the air.
We still try.
Splat is the sound of when we break our legs.
Splat is the sound of when our legs hit the trees.
Our bruises may show but we display them proudly.
Caring not of the fallen branches nor the blood our brothers weep
we still try.
Humans we are.