I am one of a kind. Unique in a way that makes me anything but special. A fairy is born to fly, spread her wings and take flight.

A fairy is born to fly. Every fairy, except me.

I’ve got no wings, so unlike the rest I am destined to stay put. Stuck in one place, useless in every way.

Why was I cursed to forever remain on the ground, unable to feel free?

I walk while they float, I run while they soar. I’ve been ridiculed and harassed my whole life. No one ever has an answer for they way I am, just a joke or a hurtful word.

A fairy without wings. A babies laugh brings us life but maybe a baby’s cry brought me mine. Unfinished and imperfect is how I’ll always feel.

I am a fairy without wings, which begs the question, am I then a fairy at all?

If not a fairy, then I am me. Neither mythical or mortal, but not confined to a label. I am not a fairy without wings but instead I am me, someone who has yet to find out who they’re going to be