Bird of prey

Sometimes I feel like a bird,

Soaring in the wild,

flying over oceans and rivers,

mountain tops and rooftops,

waiting and watching.

 

Sometimes I feel like prey,

Being watched.

Vicious teeth waiting to ensnare me.

 

Sometimes I feel like I’ve missed the train,

waiting by the platform,

peering out,

to check for any signs that the next train is on its way.

 

Sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m waiting for.

But I know I’m waiting,

watching,

hoping…

wondering…

 

Sometimes I just feel content.

Happy to be where I am.

Happy to be alive.

Happy to be me.

Just happy.

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