If I was a bird,
I would fly,
never leaving the sight of the wind.
Until my eyes were open again,
and I had fully woken up,
from my wondrous dream.
...
I were an eagle,
I would soar above the clouds.
Capturing the salt water in my beak,
until my eyes would open,
and I would realize it was just a dream.
...
If I could fly,
I wouldn't need to hold onto my dreams.
I'd let them lie on the floor
like shattered vases.
Then I'd fly away,
from all the fighting,
from all the drama,
that earth could possibly hold.
Because this was tearing our friendship apart,
leaving stripes of red
instead of red white and blue.