Wings are made to fly
To prevent falling
Wings are made to soar
To make everything seems taller

Wings are white
They are pure
They are beautiful
Then why aren’t mine?

My wings are broken
The feathers; an inky black
The bone snapped
Mine aren’t beautiful

When I try to fly
I fall
When I try to soar
I plunge

I never saw them as beautiful
I never saw them as useful
I never saw them as a part of me
Then I met you

You told me they were beautiful
You helped me fix the broken bones
You helped me embrace my black feathers
You helped me learn to fly
You helped me learn to soar
You helped me

Then you left me
You left me

You built me up
Only to collapse
You taught me to fly
Only to fall even harder

You used me
You used me

I thought
I thought you were different
I thought you were right
I thought you would be there

Wings are made to fly
Wings are white
Wings are pure
Wings are strong
Wings are beautiful

But what if they are not?
Are they still wings?