Broken heart, beating at my wings.
Clipping feathers, from a tree I sing.
Flying I try, plummeting I fall.
Crashing down, reduced to small.
Above the clouds, belonging to the sky.
Looking up, clouds push on by.
Attempting to soar, I give a good fight.
All day long, I still sit into the night.
Flightless and restricted, my joy is missing.
Swinging alone, the wind is whistling.
Grounded I wait, for my moment to launch.
Unable to depart, down near the mulch.
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