I once wrote a poem
About how the world ripped off my wings at birth
And made it theirs
How it always felt like I had to be
Someone for somebody
Anyone but me, and not to care

But that's not right

Cause I was never a bird
Flying is a mere illusion
And I'm gladly standing on the ground
With everything and everybody
And though it may not be as pretty
Reality is still reality

They may have taken my wings
But I can still run
They may have taken my wings
But I can still climb the highest peak
They may have taken my wings
But I can still feel the gush of wind flowing through all the windows
As I fall, and I cry, and I stand up once again
And I wouldn't trade this for anything else
Not even the skies

I can hear the birds calling me outside
But I've finally found one more reason to stay
Inside