A WRONGED ANGEL

Like a small bird who has just discovered what freedom is,

I wished to soar through the expansive, azure skies.

So high above, no one would ever reach me.

For that suffocating tiny bubble could no longer hold me.

All this time, I had been stuck there, a mere observer.

A helpless, sheltered princess tucked away in her tower. 

Yet I set my mind to tenderly craft the prettiest of wings ever elaborated,

Telling myself one day I would be able to see the world that awaited.

I had been told countless times not to get close to the sun,

To watch out for any looming danger,

Not to trust any stranger,

That I would not be able to handle the real world on my own.

Readily prepared to take off, I sensed the physical exertion.

Inspecting my filthy, torn wings in confusion,

I did not understand back then what had occurred,

At times, it is not in the hands of the outer world that you will be marred.