It used to be just a thought, an idea born out of a dream she once had.
In it she had wings. A cloak of feathers bridging the gaps between her arms and the wind.
In it she could fly. Leap up into the clouds and leave this cruel world behind.
In it she could walk on air. In it she could touch the skies.
In it she danced in heaven—
One foot on the rail thin ledge, then the other.
Eyes glinting with hope at the bright morning sun, she jumped.
And gained her crimson wings on the ground.