You’re flying like a bird.
No – you’re falling. With broken wings.
You’re steering right into a storm.
Without control – aimlessly – trying to catch some wind.
You’re an uprooted tree.
Roots – pointing nowhere
You’re clutching on your life.
Barely holding on, searching for new ground.
You’re hiding underneath.
Nothing – you’re surrounded by black.
You’re listening, you try to understand:
Words whispering, strange sounds for your ears.
Wanting to find your nest,
Wanting to find your earth,
And wanting to find your next.
Wanting to find yourself.