sometimes life rushes by like fly buzzing buzzing buzzing
searching for a suitable place to land, then moving again
and all these caffeinated creatures around me
are buzzing buzzing buzzing
too busy to take the time to look until we collide and everything
I rise, brushing dust from my knees,
disregarding the offer to gather my strewn ideas for me
I rise, bruised and sore, though embarrassed more, still,
how easy it would be to lie on the ground and bleed,
wail and weep, for eventually someone would save me,
but I would be as useful as a bee without wings,
a broadway star who cannot sing
and requires someone else hit the notes while they mouth along.
I would become a parasite, feeding off those who continue on.
I rise, a butterfly bursting from a cocoon,
I rise, prepared to sprint off soon,
I rise, like the budding flowers of June,
and yet, stand is all I do.
And I watch life as it rushes by,
buzzing buzzing buzzing.