It feels good to be heard
when you've never said a word
because someone else was listening
to a single-winged bird.

When you hated being stuck
and thought you'd walk into a truck
instead of giving everything to those
who didn't give a ****.

Being told you'd never fly,
spending days wondering why,
asking for answers to the question,
as if they'd fall out of the sky.

And you squint your little eye
at the paradoxical lie
because the ones who didn't make it
are the ones who didn't try.

So now you pucker up,
grant yourself a little luck,
run to the edge of branch,
do a jump and then a tuck

You look down onto the earth,
green and blue and lots of dirt,
leaving **** on cars and windows,
flying by with all your girth.