Being looked at as if I’m expected to speak, always know the answer, to entertain a subject is something I have never been fond of. Maybe this sounds silly but, I have always wished to be a statue.
We admire statues. We fear statues. Statues are mysterious. Why is it here? Who made it? Is there a story behind those stone surroundings? You can ask yourself all of these things…but you can not always have the answers. I relate myself to this because I’d rather go the rest of my life being occasionally gazed upon, perhaps admired, asked no questions, and be moved on from. Truly this isn’t stemming from pessimism. But remaining a closed book; a mysterious widow to those on the outside of my mind would be personally soothing to my soul.
Behind closed doors, I am a bird of many a flights. Always changing my direction. My feathers may shed into majestic colors of an emerald sky (ha) or maybe I am dull as the crows squalling in the morning sun. I will never be predictable, I will let you down, I will be your best friend, and sometimes I wont be there at all. I don’t want to hurt you…I couldn’t wish hurt upon even great enemies. I believe if I am left but a statue mounted on a corner, then I can not be harmed. Nor can I harm you. So bring on the acid rains that may harden around the outside in which you see. The bird I am on the inside…will always be.