Bad Poetry Weekend #10: Growing Up, Growing Down

blue bird

My idea of a beautiful life is one when you can live your own choices, make them for yourself for good or bad, achieve triumphs with the good ones and subsequently learn from the bad ones; furthermore, my belief is it is important to be given the freedom to do this and to be respected simply because these choices are yours to make.

Bad Poetry Weekend today is that challenge for everyone. Take charge of your life and let others take charge of theirs too, especially when they are ever fucking capable of doing so. Have a good day, loves. :)

This Little Blue Bird

What are wings for if you can’t fly?
What are birds for if not to explore the sky?
At the highest branch, a blue bird’s perched,
Looking to take off but ill luck, quite caged.

Invisible strings tangle left and right,
Maybe the reason messing the yet to be flight.
Is it the fear of falling you have?
Why so if you know the blue bird can glide?

From the top of the tree, the breeze gains strength,
The blue bird chokes, strangled, in pain.
Why is freedom a fight when it’s basically a right?
Leave the blue bird be to learn how to survive.

There may be mistakes, there may be a crash,
But you’ll never know, it may all be advance!
What if all trepidation don’t even come true?
How dare you steal a flight, not even belonging to you?

Photo taken from here.

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