when i try
to fly,
it takes me
a while
to get off
the ground.
remember,
my wings
are not like
yours; they
are not light,
but they
are heavy;
and
it hurts
when
i try
to
fly high.
but i
want
to keep
up
with you.
so even
though
it pains me,
i'll
touch the clouds;
my
wings will cut
through
them like knives.
but
seeing
yours
just melt
in-
to them
makes the weight
that
i carry
even
harder to
hold.
YOU ARE READING
plastic
Poetrymost wings are made of bones and skin and feathers, but what if mine are made of nothing but rubber and glue?
