Word Vomit

Paper Birds

Oh little ones, how you hang from the ceiling,

built out of paper, deprived of all feeling.

The wind pushes past the window's glass,

the pressure heightens and the adrenaline does not pass.

But you are bound by a thin and nearly invisible thread,

don't let these thoughts strain into your head.

You pull away, you thrash to be set free,

and yet, you're hung up tightly, the thread clinging to you stubbornly.

The wind pushes once more and the thread gives way as you spin towards the ground,

a little paper birdy flying around a room would seem quite profound.

You spin and twist and fly straight out the window's pane,

don't look back, it's all in the past, in the present you must remain.

You soar across the sky as the wind flaps your paper wings,

even though you're built on paper, like the real birds, you start to sing.

What you once were, you are no more, you've escaped from your binds,

continue prospering and moving forward and see what you can find.

Once a bound little birdy, tied onto a string, how you hung from the ceiling,

now you fly, you have no limits, you are free to experience a new beginning.

A/N: So this idea came into my head last night as I was headed off to sleep. I'm surprised how well it turned out xD I'll be honest, I don't know if this is advice to the people I'm observing or advice to myself. Either way, this poem has a deeper meaning to it than on the surface. :))

Vote if you liked it! :D I'll try uploading more of these poems. Btw, have you checked out ginnia? MY BUDDEHH. She writes better poems than I do ;___; But that's a good thing xD Go check her out :D

As for my readers on 'The Limit', I'll try uploading as soon as I can. I only have time for small poems nowadays ;___; Please don't give up on me xDD