Taking Flight

May 9, 2011
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Birds are fluttering through my veins,
Pushing the pains further away,
Trying to make a getaway,
Pushing bumps all over my skin,
And my hair stands on end.
They fly to the beat of the drum,
To my drummer they flutter,
A drummer like no other.
They're making a comeback,
Emerging from long left dust,
And now the dust is floating in the air,
Dissipating.
The sound of the wind beneath their wings
Beats with my drummer,
And as my drumming intensifies, off they go,
Leaving only the dust in their wake.
Taking flight.





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