365 Poems: January 16th, 2014

Social Butterfly

I look at old poems.

I look at old lives.

I look at my troubles,

my jolts and my jives,

but that all changed the day

I touched the sky.

Yes that all changed

the day I learned to fly.

 

All this crying and whining

about not being heard,

and thinking that I

was some carefree songbird,

but thinking my voice wasn’t there

was absurd.

It was me who was choosing

to not say a word.

 

Out of my cocoon

and burning so bright,

I’m taking my chances

out into the night.

I remember my dreaming;

not beating that sky,

but that was before

the day I learned to fly.

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