A untitled work in progress

I want to be a bird,

A bird that I can just spread it's wings and fly. 

A bird so beautiful that it's admired by it's feathers that have fallen in love and

have combined to create colors more beautiful than the arch in the sky after dark days

I want to be flowers in a field of still uniqueness

A flower that dances as the wind glides 

A flower that is free 

I am a young child being told to not touch the hot stove

And although I know the consequences, 

the burning blisters that will arise upon my palm, 

I want to feel forbidden warmth running through my anatomy