I used to fly.

The wings of an adventurer fell on my back.

Beautiful, powerful, and graceful they were.

I hovered over mountains,

Glided my hands over glass seas,

I’ve watched millions of rising mornings and flaming sunsets.

I would soar through the night and know the stars by name.

My feet never knew ground.

I only cried tears of joy as I called out to the air,

Begging the sky to take me farther and higher.

But now,

Those wings are clipped.

Blood, red as the dawn, trickles down the burdened stumps on my back.

They’ve scarred my eyes and I can no longer see the endless sky.

But the tears still drop like fallen stars.

All that's left is the chain that binds me to this island,

Burning into my ankle with each lugged step I take.

I used to be hurt by false love,

Now I’m broken by captivity and confinement.

I used to fly.