The Flight They Fear

Introduction: Society often fears those who refuse to be caged and hence, tries to put them down. This poem is for the dreamers, the wanderers, and the ones who choose flight over chains. It is a celebration of freedom, of defying expectations, of daring to soar when the world demands you stay grounded.

They call me lost, adrift, unmade,

A man who lingers, a child who strayed.

They whisper names, they shake their heads, 

"A boy who walks where grown men tread."

My hands still build from sticks and clay, 

Yet castles crumble in decay. 

I chase the clouds, they chase the clocks, 

Their world is measured, built from blocks. 

They trade in ledgers, debts, and gold, 

Yet lock their dreams in cages cold. 

They wear their masks of iron pride, 

Yet cracks run deep where fears reside. 

"Grow up," they say, "Stand firm, stand tall."

But roots too deep can't dance at all. 

Their hands grip tight to weight and steel, 

Yet wonder why they cease to feel. 

They carve their names on marble white, 

Yet fade before the ink turns light. 

Their laughter’s thin, their joy is brief, 

A fleeting pause between their grief. 

I watch them drown in empty space, 

Yet mock the ones who dare embrace. 

They stitch their wings with fear and doubt, 

Then curse the sky they live without. 

They tell me life is stone and chain, 

That dreams are folly, hope is vain. 

Yet stones can crack, and chains can break, 

And shackled minds will one day wake. 

They pave their roads in black and grey, 

And fear the ones who walk away. 

They kneel before their thrones of glass, 

Yet flinch to hear their futures crack. 

They chase the sun but fear its heat, 

And call the bold naive, elite. 

They dress their hearts in suits and ties, 

And call their silence something wise. 

They build their homes on borrowed time, 

Then scoff at those who dare to climb. 

They hoard their wealth, they guard their gates, 

Yet dream of things they cultivate. 

They scorn the child, the fool, the free, 

Yet curse their own monotony. 

They tell me wisdom’s found in age, 

But I see sorrow in their cage. 

The boy they shun still lives in me, 

A heart unchained, a mind set free. 

For what is life if not a spark, 

A fleeting glow against the dark? 

I’d rather dance, I’d rather sing, 

Than wear the weight that years can bring. 

For time will gnaw, and years will burn, 

Yet none will slow and none return. 

They lost the stars while counting days, 

A life spent locked in duty’s maze. 

So let them laugh, let them deride, 

I will not trade my truth for pride. 

I craft my wings from dreams untold, 

From threads of light and sparks of gold. 

For better paper wings that glide,

Than leaden feet that sink with pride.

💭 Reflection: Freedom is often feared by those who do not understand it. This poem speaks to the longing to break free, to live beyond limits imposed by others. What does freedom mean to you? Let’s discuss in the comments. 📌 Follow for more