A WRONGED ANGEL

Like a small bird who has just discovered what freedom is, I wished to soar through the expansive, azure skies. So high above, no one would ever reach me. For that suffocating tiny bubble could no longer hold me. All this time, I had been stuck there, a mere observer. A helpless, sheltered princess tucked away in her tower.  Yet I set my mind to tenderly craft the prettiest of wings ever elaborated, Telling myself one day I would be able to see the world that awaited. I had been told countless times not to get close to the sun, To watch out for any looming danger, Not to trust any stranger, That I would not be able to handle the real world on my own. Readily prepared to take off, I sensed the physical exertion. Inspecting my filthy, torn wings in confusion, I did not understand back then what had occurred, At times, it is not in the hands of the outer world that you will be marred.