Cocooned.

Trapped

  in lucid pristine existence.

Sheltered,

Hidden,

  from troublesome reality.

Delicate wings,

You stretch them to fly,

  but ensnared by the inexperience,

  the seeming inability,

  forced on you

  by those who could never understand.

They tell you it's easy,

  much more facile than ever before,

  however evident it is that we are not all the same.

Your wings are orange,

  mine, blue.

Now all you can do,

Spread your wings and breathe,

  break from your cocoon.