Original Poem | Broken Wings

Broken Wings

Never doing the right thing
Because I keep forgetting
That my wings
Are broken

Always convincing everyone it’s okay
Because I keep thinking
That not rising from the ashes
Clashes with all the advances 
I’ve made

I used to fly to forget
What do I do now that these wings
Will collect every ounce of freedom
They give me in exchange for my memories

I used to be able to touch the stars
What do I do now that the one who
Used to excite me only reminds me 
Of the scars on my left shoulder
And that the night is now much colder
Despite the world thinking I’m bolder

I wish I could accept
A world without my wings
And all the things that came so easily
If only my angels
Would put aside their halos 
instead of fighting foes that left me
For dead long ago

Never doing the right thing
Because I keep believing
That me being me
Is what’s broken

2 thoughts on “Original Poem | Broken Wings

  1. OKAAYY new poem at last!
    I got broken wings too. Not in the sense that they can’t be used, but that they are beautifully… imperfect. Will I be able to fly again one day? Perhaps. Do I need to get rid of them for now? No. For they are proof that wounds can and will heal. With healed wounds come scars that remind me of how far I’ve come.

    Like

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