Toss a coin.
 What will be, will be. 
 Forever unknown. 

If I ever wanted to go and fly
I'd give it a chance
To my dying habits
Of swelling wet rain
Speaking half-truths
And venturing into the abyss.
 
All I want
Is to give away the fears
Precious as they are,
And to welcome
The uncertainty of days gone,
Days rained
And far apart,
Like a tiny figment
Of my imagination.

The one that dries out
Every time I think
About saluting the new world.