I feel like a bird with a broken wing Damaged by all the bad I've seen I want to fly away now and feel new things But I get frustrated I cant yet, so i let off steam sometimes I feel trapped, up on a beam High above a crowded scene Reluctant to move , for fear I'll fall I know I cant fly all the way yet, so I stall I make up excuses to change the focus I cant stand my state, so I try not to let 'em notice I hide it inside like there's nothing wrong But sometimes the list can really get long Please understand when it happens And just sit right here with me Coz I may need you to dry my tears sometimes Stay by my side as I learn how to glide Help me one step at a time, so we can finally fly away by writtenbywill
By: Albine kirui Some hours are unholy for some stories, To narrate a story that happened one hour past midnight is a devilish story if not describing the stories of the nocturnal hyenas. No one can believe a story of a woman roaming after midnight looking for milk like a witch. Without blinking she narrated this story that happened past midnight, She never told us how she cuddled her husband to sleep, She never narrated the warmth of her matrimonial bed, She told us indirectly that her husband was naive and without reason, Which husband would let her wife roam at night looking for milk, when the milk man was only milking his cows in his dreams, This story of Jane was already soiled with blood, That she was sick past midnight was really the hangs man rope that winded on her neck without knowing. If she was really sick and her story was true, Her husband should have been the one worrying about milk for his sick wife. The unholy story ended sadly, Salomon never lived t
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