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My wings

Fly high, fly high, fly high,

They yell at me, goodbye!

But what if my wings are not fully grown,

And when I try to drift, they bring me back home.

In the air, I would bury my soul.

Glancing at clouds, I reckon all the things,

I did when I was young when I was immature.

They say fly, fly, fly and I forgot where I came from.

My wings getting smaller than before,

Alarm ring, I wake up and I’m back at the home.

Some dreams are worth waking so that you could fly higher,

Even if tragedy happens you could stabilize your fire.

-Riya Shah

By Ray

POET| CONTENT WRITER| BLOGGER

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