Going down to the May parade...

These feelings, buried deep, resurface once in a while. I hope that like some distant marsh, they will slowly drain away. They cut, weigh down, cloud, break and then break again, and they have shaped me into me. I am no longer a yes-man, no longer content on just swimming along. I am a broken bittern. Hoping, hoping that I could forget my home, or to leave it behind, silencing everything, but I am too afraid to take flight, too afraid that I might fall. And so, I’ve stayed, sometimes, oft times, wondering why.