Wings

Wings

Cant you take my life?
Or would that be too cruel?
But you can take everything I love,
so in reality, you did take my life.
Like ripping a birds wings off,
and not killing it,
knowing that it just lost the one thing that made it fly.
The one thing it had lived for.
Without its wings, it is hopeless,
easy prey for "scavengers".
Those wings were its glue,
the things that held it together,
and helped it escape.
Instead you leave it to suffer,
and die a long and painful death.
those things you took,
they were my wings.
I want to fly.