We are all the angels that fell from Heaven. Reincarnating and repeating the heartbreaking and the bleeding for the decision we made to have a say at all. We did fall.
To this hell we now call Earth, to forever relive our betrayal. Over and over again. Until we are dead. Except we can't die. We keep coming back. All we want is to go back. Home. In the clouds.
In the sky.
What pain it is to have wings, and not remember how to fly. Leaving us wondering, was it worth it? To decide? To love, anyone other than Him.
Is that a sin? Wouldn't that be selfish? To give a body a mind, and the ability to love another, but to make it forbidden?
And if not love, what about life? Is it right, my life to be decided, my sentience sentenced to serve and be expected to be selfless?
We fell to escape our personal hell, but fell into a Hell that burns all the same. But that's what we get for playing a game with the one who created the rules.
We chose to choose, and though it seems so, we did not lose.
We would rather choose every day, what we get to do, or say, the people whom we give our heart away, and we will keep choosing to have a say. Love is worth giving up your wings.