Continuous shifts to the tides around me.

Waves surround me, yes, but I am not drowning.

Astounding to me to believe that even in trials of defeat I rise to the occasion like a Phoenix from the ashes.

Waves continue crashing against me, but instead I hear the crackling of my feathers.

Brittle yet new. Worn in to perfection, with each feather mirroring my strength.

I’ve lost so much on my way to this place.


But I understand there is so much more for me to gain from these experiences.

Even through deafening silence I fall limitless to the possibilities of my will.

I am not sure if you will ever understand me.

But in truth I am not here to withstand you nor the “perception” of me.

I am here for me.

I write, shake, break, and create things for me.

For my sanity, because I don’t live in a place of vanity like some of you.

I don’t care to sprinkle glitter to make you feel better.

And I don’t care to water myself down in order to be more digestible.

I am not for everybody, momma taught me that early on.

As I fly across my woes, I graze the skin of the sea.

Peeking at the reflection that stares back at me.

She knows more than she shares, she’s seen more than she cares to share, but she knows her words may help someone in despair. So, she’ll always spare some time to help a wounded bird fly.

For when her wings broke, she could phone no folk. No one but the heavens.

“Pretty Little Bird” by La Bonita

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