This is how we disappear.  
Slowly folding into ourselves like paper.
Paper birds folding ourselves small,
Into tiny boxes for the people to understand us.
As if those boxes could be enough for us.

This is how we lose ourselves.  
Beating ourselves up into paper mache,
So we can fit a mold, so we can fit the mold,
Waiting for the people to applaud us,
For being excellent copies of someone else

This is how we find ourselves.
We unfold, come into ourselves,
We realize that we’re not made to fit molds,
Perfect molds made by imperfect people,
We are once again, blank, albeit crumpled pieces of paper.

This is how we reappear,
Rearranging into origami dragons,
And dragons cannot be burned,
By the heat of the people’s disapproval.
We remain originals anyway

Now, we are prepared,
Wings spread, ready to discover,
The people applaud us,
But we don’t even hear their accolades,
We’re far above that, up in the sky…

This. is. how. we. fly.

By Olaitan Joy Damilola

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