She wished for wings that worked;
that would let her fly, like the angel
she should have been. I did my best
to craft those wings, wide and strong
and real. Wings that would carry her
beyond this world, to the life that she
deserved. But when I gave my gifts
to her, she tore them into bits. Claiming
she would find another, more worthy
to grant her wish. And so she left me
with my bits of flight, wishing someone
would make me wings, and free me from
this life.
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