Impersonating Thoughts

Fellow Feather

Oh, you tiny feathered creature,

I can see you and your activities

through this translucent window.

We are so close, yet separated

by this window, and

I know that you won't fly away

as you have no idea about my existence.

You simply can't see this girl

staring at you.

You try to pick up that peafowl feather

that I left outside on purpose.

Isn't it a bit heavy for you?

Are you really determined

or simply trying to keep your pride

by trying to get it through you beaks

and fly away?

Even though its just a single fragment

of the peafowl's fan-like wings,

you try to pick it up

as if your life depends on it.

I know you don't really realize

how beautiful it looks.

It is the assortment of gradient hues in the form of

different shades of green and blue.

If you look close enough,

it combines numerous aspects

of the way I feel,

this single, long piece of feather.

But you don't care about that

or why I threw it away

or how I got it.

I simply don't understand.

What would you do with it?

Isn't it too pretty for your nest?

Aren't you jealous of its versatile elegance,

you plain old hay collecting bird?

Your simplicity is reflected in your dull feathers

that no one cares to take away.

That take you places

I'll never go to.

They don't have colors as pretty

as the peafowl feathers

but at least they help you escalate

to the vast blue sky, and roam free

unlike the marvelous and unfortunate peafowl

that stays on the ground and

gets punished for being pleasing to the eyes.

You don't care about the feather's story.

You just want to take it away and own it

like it has always belonged to you.

You've got no worries, unlike this silly girl

that holds on to sand

despite knowing all too well

that it slips away continuously

and leaves your hands empty, eventually.

You owe me something, don't you think?

How dare you take my feather away?

Even though I left it outside for a little while

It's my feather, my story.

It might be a piece of material to you

but it's the material of peace to me.

Its pulchritude is divine,

the kind of prettiness, that I,

quite sadly, have the brains to understand.

I just wish that I didn't

attach so much meaning to it

just like you.

This translucent window keeps us apart.

If it was open, you would spot me

and surely fly away,

giving me a look and making a sound so musical

and gorgeous

it would make me look pitiful.

I don't want to open this window

as I like your chirping.

I like the way you want to claim the feather

of a fellow bird, that I left there for no good reason.

You don't care about anything else

in that moment.

You are free, you have the choice

of flying away,

of acquiring what's yours,

unlike me.

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