My Wings
My wings…
My wings are clipped and molting rather quickly.
My wings…
They bleed like the juices from delicious berries.
My wings…
Why momma, tell me Momma, Why;
Why do you clip my wing, render them useless, chain me down so I can’t fly.
Why momma, tell me, Momma Why;
I’m not so little anymore I hate this so called nest we reside.
My wings…
My wings are so useless, untouchable, and smothering.
My wings…
My wings are so ungraceful as I drag them behind me.
My wings…
Why Momma, tell me, Momma Why?
Why must I waddle like a penguin just to creep on thin ice?
Why Momma, tell me, Momma why?
Why must I be like an ostrich and run fast in hopes to touch the sky;
Why Momma, tell me Momma, don’t lie!?
My wings…
Only stumps.
My wings…
Covered in bumps.
My wings…
Why Momma, tell me Momma, why
Why must I stand with my beak closed and eyes shut, why do you lie?
Why Momma, tell me Momma, why
Why must I stand with chains next to you, why can’t I fly?
Why Momma, tell me Momma, Why?
My wings…
Why Momma, Tell me why?
My wings…
Why Momma, Why!?
Why My Wings…
Why?
My wings…
My wings are clipped and molting rather quickly.
My wings…
They bleed like delicious berries.
Why momma, Tell me, why can’t I fly?