Broken Wings
I was a mourning dove,
cooing at the moon
with my broken wings,
longing for the sky.
You were whispering lies in my ears,
“you cannot fly,
you’ll never leave the ground”.
I let your words shackle me down,
let you keep me as your plaything
in a cage made not of bars and glass,
but of my own insecurities.
You thought my wanting to leave the earth
was nothing more than a foolish dream,
but I have wings
and you cannot keep me here any longer.
Not only angels know how to fly.
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