Bren Wrights

Wings

My wings were clipped 
Plucked apart piece by piece 
With a clean knife 
and a tainted hand 

 

 

I never understood why they were so heavy
why you held them so tightly 
My back is bent and crooked
From the weight of your malice 

 

 

Tied down by expectations and condemnation 
Bounded by whispers and harsh glares
With not a single care 
For my wellbeing 

 

 

The sky seems far away
Yet I dream with the stars
Floating away from my body
the same one in the ground

 

 

It’s freeing in a way
Not being under your constant scorn
Even if it meant sacrificing my wings 
At least my body no longer mourns