They wanted to call him a thug. A simple man with no aims in life so he fell to the dirt, covered in slime and disgust. They wanted me to embrace him as nothing more than a bug, disgusting and dangerous. Always being afraid of them, never learning that they wouldn't harm me. They wanted me to be like them.
Honestly, I wanted to be like them too. Wanted to be able to look the other way when eyes from below would plead with me for anything. Wanted to be able to throw money to the dogs and never care where it would go.
I wanted all of those things, but like they say, you don't get everything you want.
So I couldn't. Couldn't keep away from hands the wrapped around my pinky finger. Couldn't keep away from the eyes of people begging for life.
Just like that, I fell to the ground. Wings of gold and spoon in my mouth ripped from me the moment I walked into their home of silver with mud on my feet.
I became one of them, but I was still different. I still had the connection of bronze to the life before.
This is my story of falling, and then, getting up farther than where I had been before.
The story of golden wings.
