When you were young, you used to play
At flying like a bird in clouds
Canary to escape the hounds
Of famine, war, death, and decay

When older, you learned in your heart
There was no real way to escape
On yellow wings or crimson cape
But still, you sought a life apart

One time it seemed you'd gone for good
You'd run the slope and taken flight
Not knowing limit to your height
You'd done what you had said you would

Then falling, an uneven dive
No one would know what happened, then;
No father, fanboy, or dear friend
Would even know you were alive

Brought to the ground on broken wing
An injured form, trying to hide
From places where you'd sought your glide
A silent heart that used to sing

In these tense times, you tried to duck
Beneath the dangers of the sky
Which seek to destroy those who fly--
The bullet, rending what it struck

You fly to ground as once to sky
But, as it was in older days
When you had tried to run away
You'll find there is no place to hide

I wrote it about Erika . . . looking back, though, it seems rather unspecific, as though it's only about MT because I say it is.

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