I'm falling but I'll catch myself

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Big red wings. That was one of the most eye catching thing about him. It was as big as Phil's, people often say that he looked like him when his father was still a young adventurer.

But now he wanted them gone as well as his shoulder length hair, whenever he looked at the mirror he'd see the figure that betrayed him. He'd look at the bright wings with contempt, these wings are something that relates him to the man he now despises. So along with his hair he chopped them off.

The wooden floors of his house were sprayed with crimson red as one was cut, the feathers became matted with blood. He'd scream in the gag he placed himself silencing the painful scream that he let out.

The silent night was somewhat disturbed with sobs and whimpers, as he try to bandage the now bloodied back of his. And from then on the holes in his clothing were sewed up, his nape felt the cool breeze as it passed by, and his shoulders felt lighter as he walked in the paths he made.

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