You were special from the start.
I felt your hands when I met you.
I felt not just skin, but something different.
Something very soft, almost pillowy.
They were feathers. You were born with wings.
You soared in skies no human could ever reach
You heard secrets the wind told no one else.
But when the jealous world mocked you
You hid under the bed.
And when you could bear no longer
You cut off your wings
And tossed them away.
You could have
Just flown away
Leaving the
Undeserving world
To itself.

Gone I am
Into the past
Where memories haunt

Gone I am
Into the future
Where possibilities fly

Here I am
In the present
Where I must survive

you say that you,
when something happens,
choose fight over flight.
yet. whenever I'm in trouble
or sad
or panicking
or numb
or angry
or bloodied
or bruised
you run, you freak out, you leave, you
vanish.
you fly away, raven.
so perching myself on this boney finger
of Death's
I, the crow, will caw
until you return
"to protect."

I wish I were a bird
Though not just to fly
But to be void of troubles
That is why

Sixty red balloons
Seeping air through barely-patched holes
Falling from the sky.