I yearn to break my earthly bonds,
To soar through the wild blue yonder
And sail the boundless skies.
But I'm shackled to the land.
All I can do is pass my time fashioning wings for others.
Paper wings of crude design.
They see them as intricate appendages of which they can be freed.
I just see the paper wings for what they are,
My desperate attempt to set myself free.
In my eyes they are but crinkled sheets,
Worn beyond use.
I never intended to make others fly,
I wanted to fly.
I wanted to let go,
To not think
And to not feel.
The paper wings will not work for me.
I can't help but to be jealous.
They're my creations.
I should use them!
Why can't I fly?
Why can't I dance in the sky?
To spread my wings and soar free.
Why is it so goddamned unfair?
I have to sit here,
Shaping paper wings,
With tears flowing from my eyes.
Please, won't someone make me a pair?