I have many wings

I have many wings. I will fly away.

Fluttering convulsions, but I escape.

Bumping walls and unkind others, I go.

Higher and higher, away from problems.

No cares or worries as the wind takes me.

Flapping then soaring. Dive down, then ascend.

English: Statue of an angel with a broken wing...

A creature of comfort away from you.

My wings don’t get tired, bones are hollow.

Or membranes or webbed, avoidance device.

So far, so gone, such a time, no return.

Thumping and whooshing wind that carries me.

Such a soothing, refreshing companion.

Fingers through hair, silent intimacy.

Should I beware, children (ripped off wings)?

Broken, can’t fly, I will starve, but not cry.

Stolen blessings may not be mourned for loss.

Remembered memories of positive.

Reflection in the water, can’t dive through.

Shatter the illusion, I cling so tight.

Maybe a little nurture brings me back?

Starting as an infant, or dying, death?

My wings were freedom, now snapped, cracked, and popped.

A cruel man counts his losses, but I don’t.

Forget them easy, life returns normal.

The longing replaced with numbness and shame.


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