To Fly

I thought to myself in a moment of weakness,

Hurt and alone in an enclosed circle:

I am a bird.

I am a bird.

Why can't I fly, I fly?

Why do I crash and tumble?

I am a bird.

A majestic bird.

Are my wings useless?

Is my mind frayed so far to not accomplish such a task?

All the others fly, they fly.

I can't. I can't.

I see a bird oh so high,

it's so beautiful in its height.

I hear the gun roar.

I blink and shudder.

My claws clenching the cold ground.

No more bird in the sky.

I am still not comforted.

Even the naïve fly, naïve fly.

Do I not deserve the chance?

Am I so weak that I cannot lift from the stationary storm.

The bird falls, it falls.

It hits the ground with great speed.

Thunk.

I still want to fly,

to fly,

to fly.

Always.