You were meant for more than this,
but your wings were clipped.
How will you reach those distant shores?
The ones you have only heard of in tales?
You were made for more.

Dreams can only take you so far.
Within those fantasies you cannot stay,
So, you carry them with you
In the refuge of your heart,
But what good are they if they, like you, cannot soar?

The feathers once vibrant and full,
Have frayed and faded.
So too have your eyes –
Those once shining precious stones,
Now stare out at the world
With neither wonder nor warmth.

You stare into the darkening skies,
And that is all you see.
Their black ink dyes them
A vacuous shade,
And though your face may wear Death’s colours,
You do not bear the scythe.

You are meant for more than this,
And although you cannot fly,
Weave your dreams into your wings,

Do not just stop at “why?”