Once upon a time there was a group of birds
They had traditions and very strict rules
They all lived in a tree and never left it
Because if one flew away, they would be seen as a freak

There was one little bird
At first he seemed to be like the others
But in reality, he had a dream
He wanted to escape the tree

He told his mommy about it but she scolded him,
Saying he should stay here as this is as it's supposed to be.
The little bird got sad but had to obey the rules
Over time he got older

The other birds liked him a lot
But one day he declared that he's leaving and no one can stop him.
In that moment, the birds forgot about his good qualities, talents
And started hating him

The little bird started to get bullied
Mocked
He just wanted to dissapear
He regretted his words

Months passed and it was time,
The day he was supposed to fly away
But the little bird wasn't there to experience his new found freedom
The other birds pushed him over the edge way too soon.

I looked at the "
                         E
                           L
                             I
                              T
                                E
                                  S
                                    "
                                     and then back at
                                                               us,
                                                                    but I could see
                                                                                           N
                                                                                             O
                                                                                                difference.

Never did I think,
That moving ‘home’,
Would be the reason,
I constantly think about the end.

I was so naïve to even think,
That me being back,
Would be any different.

I made their lives more difficult,
They were happy without me.
It must be such a pain,
For them to have to look at me.

Each day only gets worse,
I don’t know how long I can take it,
Before I break.

.
.
.

Who could have known,
That moving ‘home’,
Would mean the end.

It never occurred to me
That is was a door–
Not a wall
At all.
It’s something I can’t unsee:
The door’s not a wall anymore.
Though physically,
This can be;
Why can’t my life be full of doors
Instead of dead ends on every floor?

if I were you
and you were me
together maybe we could be
the people that we dreamt to be
I’d feel your feet inside my shoes
you’d feel my pain inside your head
we’d see the world
through our eyes
we’d feel the wind
on our skin

if I were you
and you were me
we’d understand each other’s world
for free

Now Different

He once wondered if there was a rep

Who actually wore different coloured footwear?

He wondered this for years a stupid thought

And then there he was a rep in different shoes!

The rep appeared to be a narcissist by image

With one arm fully tattooed and tied back hair

An air of importance surrounded him

He wasn't a manager or boss just a rep

Not necessarily bad or arrogant he was just

Full of self-importance and something else

None of that mattered right now to Brian

What did were the different coloured pumps

One was bright yellow the other was red

Both were the same type of trainers

Not the same pair but the same make

He'd obviously swapped them around

It was the second time he saw him

And each time the rep had worn opposites

He had a quirky thing for opposite shoes

He decided he would write this poem

To remember just another rep now different