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.
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