Take Me Home (Original Poems)

Feathers - Poem 51

Full of hope, were my wings.

They took me places that I never thought I would go.

Letting the happiness of freedom fill my lungs.

Taking my high.

Taking me low.

Though, when I was too low,

They would reach up and tug at my feathers.

Plucking them.

Leaving me with less hope with every pluck.

As I lost more feathers, the lower I glided, unable to fly any higher.

I was unable to get away from the thieves that stole my feathers.

There was no escaping.

They plucked and prodded.

One by one, my feathers disappeared,

Becoming new additions to their own wings.

Now, I cannot fly, for all my hope is gone.

They have plucked all my feathers,

The wind no longer catches my wings, taking me higher.