If I were a bird,
how joyous would life be?
I could live without stress and strife,
I could finally be free.
If I were a bird,
never would I have to talk.
Not a word could my bulky beak blather,
all I could do is sing and squawk.
If I were a bird,
oh, the places I could go.
I could soar above the clouds,
in the orange, sunset glow.
If I were a bird,
I could escape all my pain.
I could spread my wings and fly away,
never to be seen again.
If I were a bird,
how joyous would life be?
But sadly, I am not a bird,
and I must continue being me.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
If I were a bird,
how joyous would life be?
I could live without stress and strife,
I could finally be free.
If I were a bird,
never would I have to talk.
Not a word could my bulky beak blather,
all I could do is sing and squawk.
If I were a bird,
oh, the places I could go.
I could soar above the clouds,
in the orange, sunset glow.
If I were a bird,
I could escape all my pain.
I could spread my wings and fly away,
never to be seen again.
If I were a bird,
how joyous would life be?
But sadly, I am not a bird,
and I must continue being me.
I wrote something different from my usual emotional pieces.
Today I was inspired by the birds I saw on my walk to school. I watched them in awe, as their black silhouettes took flight in the early morning light.
Is there any way I could improve it?
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