As I see it now, I have curled up in my coccoon
But the thought of entering this phase so late keeps me down
I’m not sure if I can ever find the strength to show my face
I’m sure they’ll still judge me without a doubt
Though I have made it without many regrets
And little to no scratches, and little to no threats
I still feel without an edge, a certain strategy… or act
I kinda feel awkward, worse than my teenage years in fact
I sit here in my coccoon just waiting to be ready
But I’m nervous that once I do hit the ground running
Will I be accepted? Or will they shut me down at the gate?
Why does it even matter what they say?
What am I doing? Why am I even coccooning?
My time has passed, aren’t I too old to matter?
The generations are grown with their own beasty ways
And I can’t even get along with the people from my day
What to do? What to do? As I sit here in my coccoon?
All nestled up and safe, waiting to make my next move
I guess I’ll never matter to the people I know now
If I didn’t matter then, I won’t matter without a doubt
I just need to find a new crowd who will wait on my coccoon
To spit me out and watch me blossom into something
I guess they thought I’d be a bug forever, such a shameful thing
Well actually, I’m still a bug… Just a pretty one… with wings!