My heart is like a feather,
So light and drifting free,
It gets caught up easily,
In the wind and over sea’s.
Though it is so fragile,
And everybody knows,
It still gets trampled a lot,
In the dirt, mud and snow.
It likes to go on journeys,
Blow gently with the flow,
It doesn’t mean to hurt people,
Pain follows where is goes,
And sometimes it gets lost,
Never to return,
Hurting, ripped and damaged,
But with more pain it learns.
Every journey comes to an end,
As the season changes,
It gets weighed down by raindrops,
And the atmosphere rearranges,
The nights get much darker,
And the sun goes to sleep,
The feather is an outcast,
And in the wet gutter,
It weeps.
