Two broken wings

There is a bird with two broken wings,

Gazing at the sky, yearning to be free,

A week has passed, how much longer will it take?

Does its capacity to love mirror its ability to hate?

Using words is better than playing with hearts,

Because, like a melody, life will one day depart.

Tell me how often have you caused any pain,

Or how many scars have you helped to mend?

When winter arrives, they’ll migrate to the South,

Yet, he’s apprehensive of the danger of flying high.

A broken wing will never be as it was before,

But it’s better to face it than to linger there anymore.