a lost friend, a new home

The arrow that is last shot, cannot be split by another arrow
Standing alone in its uniqueness
Well baby it's been heading right for us for awhile now and, trust me, it's not the last arrow
Our hearts are seeping through the cracks in the sidewalk, like wild flowers,
Like wild children,
Like wild hearts
Sunlight is seeping through the windows to our souls and it's dyed red
Like the blood that's coursing through our veins
The same blood that's been there since sixth grade,
Friends are said to be two peas in a pod,
Or two feathers of the same bird, but baby peas get separated into different cans and are put on Different shelves,
And birds shed!
We were at a tender age of eleven and twelve, finding home on the playground beneath a canopy of laughs, blue and green bandannas, and scraped knee caps
Before we even knew, we were at the tender age of sixteen and seventeen and our home was swept away in the wind
Our peas were separated, and our feathers were shed
Our home became a compass and when the dials stopped spinning
You and I were pointing different directions
Birds weren't meant to withstand the cold for too long, and neither was I
I migrated upward, further from the ground, and closer to the stars
And closer to a home more fit
For my new feathers