Little Wing

He was born with real wings

Call it a disability or his ability,

People saw people disliked

The world saw few of his type.

 

There's a myth his feathers made you fly

People grabbed and stole his feathers,

Blood was all around

Not a drop of water did he find.

 

He stood with all he had left

Picked his dagger reaped his whole wing,

Blood was all around

He was again on the ground.

 

One day people saw him flying again

Someone asked and he said,

No more wings do I need to fly

I was born to kiss the sky.