Titles are Overrated

Part 128

Your life is filled with

butterflies

and broken bones.

You can fly,

but it hurts -

for the cracks in your wings

won't stop

splitting.

The sun used to warm

your skin,

and now it burns.

It stings

like the silken tears

down your cheeks.

You're like a piece of paper

in the cold ocean, 

drenched and weighed down

by all that doubt.

You crumple

and you shrink,

but you still float.

There is still time 

to get up out of the water,

but be careful

not to tear yourself -

rest upon the ragged rocks

until your wings

are dry again.

Salt stings,

but it heals.

You'll be able to fly

once more. 

this pain is just a drop in the bucket