Wednesday, April 8, 2015


DISCLAIMER: The following poem is written for poetic purposes; it does not reflect the true feelings of its writer.

It is a general assumption that birds fly;
I am a bird with no wings.
I am overestimated for my capacity and my potential,
and yet it is capacity and potential that I lack.

What they say doesn't fly are pigs.
Yet, the connotation of a pig is condescending:
Poor animals have done nothing but exist.

My inabilities dictate this:
I am a pig trapped in the body of a bird.
I am overestimated, expected to fly above all horizons.
"Nothing I can't do", but I of myself can do nothing.

I am a helium balloon buried underground.
I am a fish expected to climb a mountain.
I am a seed without soil and water.
I am a staircase leading nowhere.

A tree that bears no fruit.

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