withered in a small coocon lies not a butterfly but me not quite finishing my metomorphisis staying in a half adolesent half adult state not matured to life or it's surroudings wings small weak and underdeveloped not able to fly or even flap looking down at the ground below me not daring to take that leap of faith not finishing my task of life but men cannot fly they cannot soar they can barley walk upright anymore i've lost the vision i had as a child a vision of happyness and flight i've lost the thoughts of my inner child those thoughts of fancy and freedom what is it to mature is anyone really? living in a cave not every really knowing anything that's maturity not living life or taking chances not being who you really are oh well