Like a kiwi, we do not know how to fly,
We're grounded like Simba, next to his father's battered pelt,
We find ways to live the hardest life,
The life of being trapped in a cage that is humanity.

We already know how to walk, and hop, and swim,
So would wings on our backs lift us in the air?
Or would they weigh us down, sinking us to the deepest depths?
Or would they just make us different from everyone else?

We admire lives that are not ours,
We dream of skies both blue and black,
We can wish upon a star that is too far to ask,
With that wish, hope is born, and another path.

Riddle me this:
Is it as sweet as a mother's kiss?
Or as bitter as a badger's rage?
Only you can know if you dare turn the page.


  • yellowrose

    i love your style of writing ! 🙂 again , another lovely read . so unique, how you referred to a kiwi unable to fly. when we are feeling trapped we surely want to be able to fly and i love how you bring reflection to the negatives of flight and wings, for sure , we all would love to fly but what if the outcome is worse, what if we crash and fall and be pulled even further down .. please keep sharing .. i love your work

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.