This last one is somewhat like a prequel of Flying Alone With Holes In My Wings.
Growing Up Different
It never occured to me, until later on in life,
that I'm different.
Especially in the family.
I didnn't know that I was the only one with wings.
As a child, things seemed perfect.
Holidays with all of them, eating good food,
and always having a good time.
Growing up is the worst thing.
Later on in my childhood, I realized
they didn't like my wings.
They are what make me, me.
They are a gift, I do believe.
These wings take me to other places I can never
visit: magic castles, other worlds where adventure is.
The wings also help me fly. Fly across my canvas
sky and put down whatever is running through me.
Growing up different is hard.
It means finding out what you believed
in or existed, never really was or did.
Finding out the people you thought loved you for you
and just couldn't wait to see when something
special came around, never really did.
Some you knew did, others just didn't.
And now, I hope I don't have to spend more than ten
minutes with them so they can't ask how my flying
is going.
I have to say, it's just something about the creative mind that makes me think that they are like wings. Have any of you ever heard of the term in some stories "flying across the paper" or "flying across the canvas"? When I think about the mind and when it creates, it's almost as if it's flying. And when you have a pen and paper, it soares. It's weird I know but that's how I see it.
I'll post soon when I come up with more. I hope you like them.
Miss Malfoy