i hate the feeling that this force brings dancing butterflies with spikes for wings starting as a flutter on my stomach they're tapping the closer it gets my ribs are now cracking the clouds grow dark hurricane in sight a brave mask takes what's left of my might no longer able to hold the fledgling in my arms no longer able to shelter from what harms the storm leaves me but takes him along yearning him to fly back where he belongs falling speck of sand seems like a day while wishing for eternal flowers of may the sun pushing through blackened haze the little bird weathered the menacing maze shaken and bumped fortunately no lethal wrong the child now calm by my his mother's song