I’ve been trying to flutter away
From that beautiful smile which shone brighter
Than anything I had ever envisioned
I’ve been trying to flutter away
Because I know if I try hard enough
My wings will become larger and majestic
And my name, written amongst the stars
Staggering, tumbling and quivering
Like a small dove riding against a windstorm
I’ve been trying to flutter away
Today my heart beats relentlessly quick
As if begging me to falter and realize
I’ll never get near the sun without melting away

As much as I try, the cyclone vows to break me apart
Spilling my feathers around a world of longing and craving
As of now, I still can’t fly so high
However, I’m not like Icarus
My wings aren’t frail and made of wax
I’ve been trying to flutter away
Eventually I’ll reach the sun
And the day when my memories spent
Alongside your beautiful smile
Which I still love and cherish
Will become just a warm and gentle breeze
Of the past

An Irishman once had the luck
To find a free chicken to cluck:
     They went to the coop
     Where the chicken would ploop,
But the chicken, turns out, was a duck.

You dig a hole deeper than what gravity can hold down;
put your phone down – making those comments just to
ring the crowd up.

You’ll never fly any higher than an ostrich; but you play
their popular myth, when you bury your head in the dirt –
to cover up your face, with false scales of makeup making
up your worth.

Maybe as I missed the translation of when someone says,
“bed” to the word bird – to believe you rest in the nest
of your fears; never to leave that habitat, to soar above
the world.

Seems a habit not to face your fears –
sitting on your wings!