It is on days like these
that I am freer than a bluejay,
who soars ever so high;
to and fro, up and above,
and yet, always gliding back down
to rest its wings, as it nests
in the trees, a home of loose twigs
and fell leaves.
It is on the nights that follow
that I may see my reflection
in the full of the moon,
whilst weaving my own reality,
from this golden loom,
as it becomes my destiny.
It is on the mornings after,
that I slowly crawl out of bed,
and take flight yet again.
Soaring through life,
and all it has to offer,
until it nears the end.
As I remember a time,
long ago... where I would sit
upon my very own nest,
to rest my wings before
I took flight once more,
and to find my way to
the very end of this
golden loom.
Though, now I am in a tangle,
as I twist and turn and fight.
It seems inevitable,
this lonely life.
As depression is a bird
with shattered wings,
a lonely bluejay.
But it is worth the fight,
to endure a life you so wish
to live, alongside friends,
and family. In reality,
there is no such regret;
aside from that fact that
I, too, wish that
I had truly become...
a bluejay.
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