What do you do when your wings are clipped?
And how would you take it when you realize who did it?
You have been bleeding,
A river that turned brown over time
You just realized it hasn't healed,
But you gained consciousness, only just in time.
You want to fly,
High, above, and beyond
You want to fly,
Free, happy, and whimsical.
But you run 'cause you can't,
Run away from all that you don't want
Run till you store enough magic in your legs,
Run till your wings have enough time to grow, again.
So you run, and you run, and you run,
You run until yesterday and its harsh beams scorch you no more.

YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them