This Gift, This Curse

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How can something
So wrong
Feel so right?
How come our world
Is never black and white?
Always running
But from whom we don’t really know
Always hiding
Our faces never shown

But I still have
The wind in my hair
The air’s still crisp and cold
Way up there
The breeze lifting my wings
The tune my heart sings
But my feathers were a gift
From the spirits that haunt me

Is it possible
That something
So unnatural
Can be so beautiful?
My first love
Was the sky up above
And when things get rough

I still have
The wind in my hair
The air’s still crisp and cold
Way up there
The breeze lifting my wings
The tune my heart sings
But my feathers were a gift
From the spirits that haunt me





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

gossimergrrl said...
Jan. 29, 2012 at 4:14 pm
I love them! Can't wait for the last! Thanks for commenting!
 
EPluribusUnum This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 29, 2012 at 4:11 pm
The imagery in this is beautiful! It made me want to fly!!! Well, I always want to fly. But now I want to fly that much more! Aren't the Maximum Ride books great?
 
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