Heal.

I am not a poet but I do wish to write.
I cannot rhyme but I hope I find a rhythm.
I seek no attention though I want to turn some heads;
like the time I lost a feather and they broke both my wings.

I learnt to sprint as time went by.
Who knew, with feet on the ground, it’s easier touching the sky.

I too used to think, I’ll never again be whole,
but falling apart truly, truly heals the soul.

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