Things I think about.
Alone I fall, my wings ripped from my back. Someone I trust has taken them from me. I fly no longer. The sky calls to me. But I hear no sound. Am I to remain here? In this world were I alone walk along the ground? Feathered friends fly past, hand in hand with friends and family. I turn my eyes forward and begin my endless traverse. Time passes slowly here, The breeze brings back memories of the sky. Of how I used to fly with the others. My back bleeds from missing wings. I've been here so long, the pain I feel, it has blended with everything else. I can feel myself fading, my wounds have turned to scars.
Things people tell me
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