Wings On the Feet

Born with the wings on the feet, By the chains of the faith nonexistent, surrounded by the magnificence of the walls, freedom restricted and thoughts restrained, I have always stood closer to the ground. Almost as if half always buried in ground closer to the matter that created me an inch away from my mother's lap half dead and half alive. Tired and wary The moon is full, mother I await for my lullabies. I am old now with grown worries and for a shut eye, some lullabies from when I was baby in your arms.