On the very brink of reality,
Hanging on the edge of safety,
Tweet, tweet, tweeting up, up high,
The in and out breaths, the deep sigh,
To jump or hop back to the nest?
To fly and be free, or to be safe, called the best?
Either way I take a risk as a small little bird, a baby,
I never asked you to be my superman, to try and save me,
Yet here you are, coming to my rescue, holding tightly,
I used to shy away and run from this, seemingly brightly,
But somehow I’ve changed and become okay with being saved,
I’m tired of running in this infinity circle; sick of being chased.
I was under the impression if you were committed, you had lost,
I suppose my mind’s been changed, or maybe I’ve gone soft.
I used to believe a lot of things, yet they seem not to apply,
You’ve both freed this bird and made her say hello instead of bye,
I no longer feel like a loser for being committed, it just can’t be true.
I guess the truth is I’m only okay with ‘losing’ if losing means winning you.