Gah, the end of the alphabet. My song choices are getting harder. So little songs that start with the letter inspire me on this end.
You're off again, trying to find some
way to fix me. It's rather endearing, well, it used to be. With
each time you set off to follow rumors of some new type of cure and
return with either something that doesn't work or empty hands I've
grown more and more depressed with the idea that the eagle's attack
has permanently grounded me.
I will never fly again. I am a
cripple.
I feel sorry for yelling at you, for
the action of raising my voice. And while my chest still hurts at the
tears in the corner of you eye as you flew off, I don't regret my
words.
You have to understand Spacia, you will
never, never, find a way to get me back in the sky. I will never
again leave the confines of this pitcher plant and the branch it sits
on. Other faeries will have to constantly bring me food, as there is
little to offer here. And I have nothing to offer them in return.
On top of that, with limited access to sunlight, my magic is rarely
replenished.
I am a useless member of society.
I understand you are willing to fly me
to the tree tops and gather food for me, but you shouldn't have to
live your life around mine. You are young, find someone else.
I don't want you helping me.
Which is of course what sent you off in
tears to begin with. I don't like the person I'm becoming, an invalid
who needs help for the simple act of surviving. It's embarrassing and
shameful, and I don't like knowing you see me in such a weak state.
I love you, always will, but I can tell
my shredded wings are breaking our relationship. We are trapped at
the start of a downward spiral and while you are upset with me now
and I am peeved at my condition and your naivety
and thinking it can be fixed, I see that in the future such feelings
will fester and we will begin to hate each other.
I want to fix that, more than my wings.
I need to find some way to be useful,
some way that doesn't depend on having a full source of magic and
that I can do from my cramped home. But you keep looking to return
things to what was and your lack of understanding makes me want to
push you off a leaf some days.
Stop trying to make my life livable and
enjoy yours. With time, I'll figure mine out on my own without a
potion made from rain that fell at the North Pole or a salve made
from a rubber leaf soaked in ocelot blood and tied on with a unicorn
mane strand.
When you come back Spacia I'm going to
say those same words again, this time at a more reasonable level, and
hope that unlike yesterday you listen to what I'm saying.
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Great job.
ReplyDeleteLove to see such inspiration from song! :)
ReplyDeleteGreat song, though possibly my fave 'x' song is X-Static by the Foo Fighters :)
Oh, don't have that one.
Delete