The Broken Ones

I coddle them, you know. 
I raise them up to the standards
society said they couldn’t muster. 
I whisper gentle lullabyes to them,
comb my fingers through their hair.

They say you’re supposed to
let them heal their broken wings
take a step back, and set them 
free. 

Don’t get too involved. 

But I love them too much
the broken ones of this world. 
So much so, that my heart nearly 
bursts
at the thought of them loving me 
back. 

BIATA

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