I'm really starting to wonder why, every time I start to fly, Something drags me back to ground. I was born an avian child, the winds intrigued, the skies beguiled. The breezes whispered a quiet sound. Each night I fly so high in my dreams, drifting along without a care it seems, Till morning comes to drag me down. Those around me can' t understand, as they are bound so firmly to land. I will forever be outside them all. With mantled wings and hooded eyes, I wait, searching barren skies for a mate, Never quite finding one to fit. In human form, I am forever bound, never once to leave the ground, Never with an avian mate. Forever grounded, Forever off center, Not FAIR?.I was meant to fly?.