[Short Story Collection] Writing Out of Anger -

wings

She was fighting

But no one knew

That she was crying

Deep inside she was crying.

She had wings

But what good is it if you have wings?

I don't know how to flap my wings,

Repeatedly flying and falling,

If you flap your wings thousands, tens of thousands of times,

They say that at some point you can fly high

People often talk about similar things when they talk about dreams and ideals.

But, how about this?

She's already falling and falling and falling again

I am no longer alone, trapped in the swamp of pity.

I can't get out,

She is like that

I was just crying.

Coldly -

end