There Truly Is No Reason I Shouldn't Be Able To Fly

Waking up each day is exhausting.
The birds chirp their cheery tunes while I pull on my beat up shoes.
During the week, I feel too weak, walking through the school.
My legs tire and my back aches as I travel from class to class.

I don't get much sleep anymore, I've learned to function with less.
These eyebags of mine continue to worsen, but I think they look pretty.
Jealousy bubbles over as people much better looking than me wander.
How I wish I looked like them.

High places make me nervous, but free.
Free to leap off and soar through the sky on wings I don't have.
It's quite unfair, I believe.
That birds get wings and soar across the sea.

If only I could fly like them, free to do as I please.
Some may find birds filthy or strange, not me.
I find them fascinating and beautiful.

The beauty of freedom is one they enjoy, as do I.
Our freedom is different though.
I am free in so many ways, yet trapped to walk this Earth on foot.

They have no such rights or rules, only feathers to take them soaring.
Sometimes I wish I had feathery wings that would lift me into the air.
Soaring above towns and cities without a care.

My wings would be huge, a wingspan larger than any other.
Feathers like stardust that shine under the blazing sun.
Downy fluff to warm me as snow falls in Winter.

What color would my wings be?
A vibrant green?
Perhaps a dark blue?
Matching my hair, the exact same hue?

How I wish to be like them.
It's a thought I've had more recently.
How would it feel to climb up high?
Spread my arms as if they're wings.
Step off and soar.
Why would I fall?

Imagine your hair flowing behind you like a cape.
Eyes watering as you take in your surroundings.
Then your wings spread and you stop falling and start flying.
Wind in your hair, your feathers, your soul as you glide through the sky.
You join the birds up in the atmosphere above.

But even here you are different.
You stand out like a sore thumb compared to them.
Their elegant, small frames and hollow bones.
Your awkward, large skeleton and bones that are anything but hollow.
Your flying hurts to watch and the birds you joined have flown away.
Disgusted and ashamed to have any similarities to you.

You flee in shame, tears glide off your face like party streamers.
Painting the sky you love with mournful iridescence.
It makes no sense to you, so stop imagining.
Come back to reality, back to truth.

I will never fly like them.
I shall remain on the ground, clumsily stumbling along.
My legs refuse to let me blend in, making me stumble and fall.
Another reminder of how I differ from the birds.
The birds...

Beautiful creatures with feathers of all colors.
Incredible and free without a care in the world.
Real creatures of the sky, unlike me.
Disgusting to some, spectacular to others.
Simple in most every way, flaunting their feathers over me like a prize I can't have.

But perhaps it is better this way.
I don't belong in their world.
Even in the sky I so admire, I do not deserve to join them.
What have I done to earn that freedom?
Nothing, I have done absolutely nothing.

So I shall return to school, like everyone else.
I will walk the halls and attend my classes.
When I return home at last, I will give in and let sleep take me.
The next morning, I will wake up to the sounds of birds outside my window.
Chirping happily.
No.
Laughing at me.
Laughing at my stupid wish to be like them.
To fly.

I'll hear them and I'll cry.
I'll soak my pillow and let my useless body shake as I gasp for air.
Choked sobs will scare them away and I'll reach out in desperation as they fly off.
As they abandon me here, all alone.
I still don't get it.
There truly is no reason I shouldn't be able to fly.