Where do we go

To grow flowers with no souls

To be a part of something smaller

To be released from all the fodder

Where do we hide

When the world is on our side

And the few know nothing at all

Yet they never seem to fall

Where do we fly

When our wings are snipped

To the ground we stick

And all there is left is to cry

This is life

Why am I here

There must be some place better

Yet it isn’t ever near