Sometimes I look at my life
And see Im outside looking in
Hovering above that bubble
In observation of my own sins.

Like a balloon on a string
Longing to float away so free
Or perhaps a blooming flower
Rejecting the stem to unfetter me.

If I had arms of any strength
I'd slice away those binding roots
With the knife of my own power
A clean cut, a clean wound.

But now I stand here knowing
That such threads will never break and
I flick my cigarette too hard, losing the tip
Of my iceberg
That's just the tip
Of my iceberg.

Tara Crown

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/iceberg/