On the cool sand,
Feet soaking it all in.
Sun burning the face,
The wings are completely gone,
With scars left where wings are.

Island is isolated,
Can’t fly away.
Birds in the sky,
They can all fly.
I cannot.

Can’t eat anything,
Can only wander around,
scorched from the sun
It’s all endless suffering.

I want to spread my wings,
But have none.
I want to fly but cannot.
For I have stubs and scars for wings.

The birds squak, laugh,
Call me a freak,
And the laughter is drowned out by the headaches,
The nausea,

The stomach,
The churning, the growling,
The wanting of flying.
The wanting of being free,

Calm,
Of being an endless wave,
Of being like the sea.

One day,
One day,
It will happen,
It will all stop.
It shall be calm.

Sometimes, the birds,
The pick and they peck,
Leaving nothing to eat,
Leaving nothing to feast upon.

They cackle at our tears,
They fly around while we,
We different birds,
Stay on the ground,
Unable to fly.