Hurting wings
These wings, they're hurting, the pain is deep. Their bruised and tattered and hang near my feat. Most of the time they drag on the ground, soot covered feathers falling off raining down.
I've forgotten to fly, what on earth is wrong with me!? Why is it the ground is all that I see. I don't see the things I do to my wings, or the soot and the dust that hangs in these strings.
I ignor them so much I forget that they're there, why won't these wings just get out of my hair!? And then I remember the pain and it brings it all back, how I have these wings sprouting out of my back.
These wings are such a bother, I'll go talk to my Father, maybe he has some ideas about the pain. Dear Father, why the bother? What have these wings got to offer? Must they allways only cause me pain?
And so He tells me, what I should have remembered, if I'm not ready for the pain than I shouldn't be a member. Then He reminds me of what i've allways heard, the Lord God my Father is true to His word.
The road is rough and the wings are hurting, the pain is real and the wounds are spurting. Wings are supposed to hurt, if they don't you've got a problem, if wings don't hurt check to see if you still got them.
