Next best thing to crying...

Telling someone how you feel.

Next best thing to dying...

When they don't believe you're real.

Expecting my hands to be soft,

Is understandable,

Not seeing the scars there,

That's classic.

They'll tell you how beautiful are your wings,

While they bind your pinions and strip your feathers.

"So graceful and so precious!  Such lofty, ethereal things,"

The words like rusty chains, cracked leather-sentiment tethers.

They'll tell you, "Rise above the sorrow, fly from the pain,"

After they teach you to clip your own wings so you won't fall,

And when the confusion sets in they'll be the first to tell you you're sane.

"People can't fly," they'll say, and point to the wings nailed to their wall.

Seasons of the heart.
are like seasons of the weather.
Always changing.
Always coming back.
No matter what!!

Shell ✨🐚