If Penguins Could Fly

The feeling of absolute solitude. Sorrow and wary, surround and consume. No exit, nowhere to escape. The sentiment of not being able to breathe so having no choice but to chug the water. The fermented breathy soil is yearning for more. But even when all is lost one must stand angry and strong, even if it's on their toes. Rage is necessary, for the world is unjust. Agony is an emotion all shall face, now or later is destiny's path. A longing, a yearning for a great solace that one has never known, craving the great hiraeth.