Remember that time…
felt like a newly winged butterfly
just out of the cocoon
that you wanted to taste the nectar of every flower there ever was
and nothing could hold you down?
Remember how each drop of rain on your wings
felt like a taste of freedom
and the drops caught fire in your courage
and set the ground yearning for more hope?
How each taste was so new…
as new as the first blooms in the spring
and then one day you forgot how spring tasted like?
Remember the day you tore of your wings
with a blunt sword of fear
and watched as all their colour
spilled in an acid rain over your dreams?
Remember how you tried to wash it all away with your tears
but your tears started detesting you
and you felt lost?
Remember how you managed to sew up the tears
with a type of stitches that you yourself
on your own designed…
and how everybody said you were a little ragged,
and one day you perfected the art
of holding your seams together
and your innards never felt more yours?
Just let this be a little reminder
that this is not the first time you were wrecked
the last time you got back on your own wings.