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Her wings are larger than life.
Anxiety creeps in as she stares at them.
In front of the mirror, she sees her wings only partially.
When she takes flight, they have the sound of a helicopter.
It jolts people. They don’t like it.
So she tries to hide them.
But she can’t conceal her wings anymore.
Each day the feathers grow and shine more and more.
“What will I do?”
They used to be small enough to pretend they didn’t exist.
Easily hidden underneath all the fears.
Now her wings crowd and spoon those feelings.
With each flight off the ground, the wings drown the voices of the critics.
The doubters. The biters. The haters. The losers of their souls.
Each day, her wings grow even larger than her inner critic—
Oh the thought of the ripple effect.
“Will it be good? Will it be bad?
Can we ever kill…
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