Once i hatched and fell down.
No wonder people called me a clown.
The branch wasn’t strong enough to hold me up and i slipped away.
I was a little grey they say. Dispassionate and detached. Hence, grey.
No one bothered to pick me up because it was all a competition.
I lacked the courage as i was the result of their premonition.
Surviving this chaos desolately is not a slice of cake.
Death of my parents gave me a heart ache.
They were hunted.
My life, stunted.
I was left to fight with the world’s harsh harmony when i learned to chirp.
Believe me, i was flawless. Envious mates marvelled, though they seemed disturbed.
Hypocritical opinions. Resentful looks. I had nothing to prove
My fellow tree mates called me rue.
Freedom is what I’ve seen people crave for.
Portrayal of diplomacy in a silent war.
Their world is just that one tall leafy tree.
They never realized that freedom, is free.
They’ve made a branch their entire life, their home.
They don’t know about London, Paris or Rome.
I was being camouflaged though i had all the freedom.
I kept myself locked . Indeed, it was a strong gum.
The gum was my cowardice nature who always kept my feet on the ground
when i could have taken a flight towards infinity and way beyond.
Isn’t it rhetorical to even ask a bird to fly?
Dreadful epiphany. An inner cry.
I was flying towards a bright light,
but then i realized i was dreaming .
I had a notion that maybe the bright light
seemed to be a signal. Aspirations as fragile as a thin string.
Dreaming about dreams is just moronic when one should be living them.
I took a flight. Let the wind in my wings. Flew away from all the mayhem.
The nostalgic insomniac 