Born With Wings by Esther Jones
I was born with wings, yet they were weak;
I needed training how to make them fly,
But no one told me I could reach the sky,
And those who flew were looked upon as freaks.
They told me I was meant to be unique,
But "normal" was the model to my eye.
It took me way too long to see the lie--
How can you find if you don't know to seek?
Now fear is chains upon my heart and soul,
Heavy links that hold the feathers fast,
Doubt that tries to keep me in control.
When I come out and spread my wings at last
And fly into the blue, then I will see
That I was always meant to be this free.