Through the guarded golden gates, watching down like a hawk, I feel her pain seep from down below and into my gut, hurting as this beautiful creation cries quietly. As she stares in the mirror, she runs her hands over her legs and face, feeling the bruises and skin that makes up her complex. Like a forested meadow with the sun overtop, but for some reason she sees the barren bitter grounds of hell. She thinks of herself as not being potted yet, but cant seem to understand that she has already bloomed.

walking around school halls, seeing the joys of others and not understanding why shes didnt have what they had. Like a bird trying to define her colors, all she saw among her were those of tremendous, defying, and uncomparible. Stuck in her own cage, staring in the mirror, the sparrow turns away, and watches the world never notice. Or at least thats what she told herself.

the perfect gridded teeth, the rules of society, and everything she thought she had to be weighed her down. For the sparrow always longed to be something else, but she had never once tried to open her wings and fly. She had never felt like anyone chose her or wanted her in her life, convinced she was the problem, but what she didnt know is that she had been chosen from the start.

trying to change the color of her wings was hard, it didn’t come with a ready box of hair dye. It took diets, it took makeup, it took everything. But for some reason, when the sparrow sees its reflection, they still dont measure up. Trying to remind her of what she could do, how she could fly, but the sparrow didnt listen. 

Defeated, she lifts up her battered feathers to herself, and wrapped them around her shrinking body, squeezing her rib cage shut. She wondered when she would be able to fly again, she wondered why she felt so inferior, she wondered why no one cared for her. She tried to think about one person in her life who had wanted her. For no one had there eye on the sparrow. Despairingly she lay on her bed sheet, shaking and trembling like branches in a tree.

I lay my arm down on her, silently and gently, holding her close to my chest, even though I knew she knew I wasnt there. Her rapid breaths sigh against my white cloth, and I knew this child of mine was far too innocent to understand. “Why does nobody love me?” She cried into my arms, and it took something deep down within me to say to her, I do child. So i stroke her hair, hug her arms, and repair her beaten down feathers. For I have my eye on the sparrow, if only she had her eyes on me.