She sits perched on the branch of life;
Unbalanced, swaying in the wind,
Fighting to stay steady and not fall hard to the ground;
The ground that awaits her,
Hoping her weakness will overcome,
Knowing that her wings have not matured enough
To allow her to fly,
Saving her from the certain outcome
of defeat.
Every once in a while she becomes captured by someone who wishes
To imprison her;
Keeping her closed in so tight that she cannot spread her wings.
She peers out from behind the bars,
Aware that the longer she is kept there the more likely it will be that
She will remember how to fly.
Did she ever know how?
Know how to fly?
What it’s like to soar above all who have tried to hold her down?
She sits perched on the branch of life,
Reflecting;
Feeling the breeze sift her nerves.
She looks to the ground that awaits her defeat,
And she holds her head a little higher,
Closes her eyes,
Swears no one will ever trap her again,
And she believes.
Eyes open and she sees that she has burst from the cages;
Left the unbalance,
And she learned to fly.
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