Falling slowly, a paper crane burns. flames at it's tail.
All the other birds have real feathers, and that's why they can fly high. didn't i have feathers too? , thinks the bird of origami, as the ground is nearing her weightless being.
I am quite sure i did. She lands softly on earth but knows that it isn't the pain of falling that hurts her.
Lying there, watching the other birds fly, pains her chest much more. Silhouettes of real wings covering her body, as they soar above her.
Ultimately, she picks herself up and walks on land. however she will always be afraid to even try to fly again.
Remember, the voice in her mind says, you will never be as good as them. and she nods her head to herself.
Envying those birds was not stopping her from flying. it was the fear that she would lie on the ground again that told her to keep her feet on the ground and her wings clipped.
YOU ARE READING
nostrum
Poetry‣ nostrum noun { a medicine prepared by an unqualified person, especially one that is not considered effective } - = ≡ ___________ [ previously published as " pills and alcohol " ] ◂
