I only know how to trim my wings with nail clippers.

I’ve never been one to maintain good looks.

Not that I don’t want to look good,

But I do not have the energy

To gel my hair, brush my teeth, or flatten my belly

Without wishing for the nail clippers to be machetes.

 

I only know how to trim my wings with nail clippers.

I’ve never been one for heights.

Sure, I’ve gone ziplining before,

But the way the adrenaline

Quickens my blood pressure

Makes my bones hum to a tune

That makes my skin itch.

 

I only know how to trim my wings with nail clippers.

I guess I’m not an angel,

At least not one God would like to keep around.

I don’t know if I believe in God,

But if He is real,

I doubt He likes me.

He must have poisoned my mind with Eve’s apple juice.

He must have planted the seeds in my esophagus.

I don’t know how else I could have grown to be

So dependent on others’ kindness.

Maybe it is their action that is supposed to cleanse me.

 

I guess I only know how to trim my nails with fantasies.