flightless birds

let these fakened fears
wash away
in the calmness of the water,
before the storm of our desires hits
and we sink yet again
and the flightless birds scream into the air
'we cannot escape
for we are trapped on this earthen prison

and the sky cries back
'and yet we find it impossible
to look down at the soil below'
because down is dangerous
with its glittering black rocks
so like the stars up above
but hard and sharp

and the gull shouts
with bloodied feathers
painting a gruesome image
onto the rocks below
and malicious intent glinting
in beady black eyes

and they yell into the air,
and they sing of freedom,
for these flightless birds
cannot leave the ground
and they are stuck
in a world that does not suit them,
in a world that is not theirs

for the different
are most often thrust into
strange, foreign situations
that make them
who they are.

and the flightless birds
begin to shed their useless wings
and embrace
the idea of walking
instead of sinking into sagging clouds,
brought down by their failure.

for being a flightless bird
may as well
not be a bird at all.

The End

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