To Fly Away

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
To write means to not subject to others. Yet when writing this, why did I feel constraint. No form, no intent. But questions that have come up in the modern world that I hope others have questioned too. A Beacon that proves I have thought these things too.

Submitted: September 15, 2015

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Submitted: September 15, 2015

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Is it wrong for me to want to fly like the faries my parents use to read to me?  When I look up in the sky to see no stars, why is it that others give a distant look towards me and walk away?  When can I meet the people in this world that will really understand me without feeling obligated in keeping my expressions to myself?  When will I find them, those that are of my kind?  When can I walk out the door and feel happy without being forced to express happiness for the sake of others?  Time grows and grows, and nothing has changed.  So when can I fall to fly away?  

 

Memories of a Caterpillar,

Yet maybe not. 


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