My Wings

My wings may be a little damaged now, but I can still fly. I can still touch the sky. I'm hurt, my wings were wounded, but I can still dream. I can still try. I may have to do things a little differently, but I can do them.

And it's true that in the absence of my wings, I feel so small. That oftentimes, I fall. But when I'm down, I won't stay there.

It's a very far place I wish to go. Sometimes, I don't even know how to get there. But I’m sure I'll be there. I just may need time.

I'm so eager to be there already. But I'll fly one day at a time. When I'm tired, I'll pause for awhile, and then fly again. My wings may be wounded, but with bleeding wings I learn the dangers on my flight. And I will be more aware, and be better guarded.

Perhaps I am being careless. But sometimes, I feel it is somebody's fault. Many were trying to hinder me, trap me, and pull me down. They attempt to hurt me, and sometimes they succeed. And sometimes, I can't make them stop.

I'm hurt enough. But I will try to stay strong. I have no other way out but to move on, face whatever is there, and fly. I’m alone with wounded wings. But I am still capable to soar high and measure the heights. 

 You are my wings.