Wings

No one is like me.

I see the world exquisitely.

When I look at the sky,

All I see is the different possibilities.

Once I stare out into the world.

All I see is the danger.

My wings want to soar.

My heart wants to cry out.

The pressure builds;

I must make a choice.

Should I go to the sky

And be free of my misery?

Or should I move through

The darkness,

To find the light?

My wings are powerful

And so am I.