Waiting for my life to end,
To be left out in the cold.
I fly high above,
In the brisk, chill air.
Not getting any love,
From the children that make me, on those rainy days at daycare.
My wings are white,
My flaps are triangles.
Once you throw me I take flight,
Then in the trees, I stay stuck and tangled.
If only you knew how lonely it is up here,
My heart beats out of despair and pain.
Constantly waiting for the sun to rise and the darkness to disappear,
My wing is always broken, and I never know where I will go, living life like paper planes.