A poem that divide the sky for a sense of self.
Dear little angry bird,
Your flight might seem a smooth sail of sweet smelling air,
but do you realize? that air hasn’t a fragrance.
That you have been breathing in a bubble of your desires that wasn’t built by you.
It is just beneath your guardian who has been dragging it under the whip of your demands, for you.
The colonizing authority, which you possess over your guardian, will only break your potential for self-preservation.
So, stop marking your territory for the luxuries you can’t afford to make efforts for.
In the desires of flying high, who knows if you have mistaken choking oceans for a breathing sky.
The sky which will never be enough for you.
Enough to embrace the desires that have marred the growth of your wings.
Treating your real life like the game of tetris,
You have been stacking their emotions to fill your voids without…
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