You crafted me with such delight.
You formed me how You knew was right.
You placed me here upon this ledge,
Among this tragedy and dredge.
My wings convince me I can soar,
And fix all hearts that others tore.
But these paper wings don’t seem to fly,
No matter how hard I try.
So I sit here, out of sight.
It doesn’t seem fair, it doesn’t seem right.
As the dust collects I begin to question;
Who, what, where, why, and when?
Who even made me and for what purpose?
I start to feel like I’m worthless.
Why am I here, and where is “here”?
When will I be delivered from these questions, doubts, and fear?
As I begin to accept my futile life,
Two weary eyes pierce like a knife.
Underneath those burdened eyes,
Was the end of my demise.
The purest smile I’d ever seen.
Someone wake me from this dream.
But it’s real and it happened,
This must be a Godsend.
To remind me why He took the time,
To craft a bird that cannot fly.
Remind me though I’m only paper,
I’m made for something so much greater.
Tucked away and out of sight
‘Til some weary searcher finds delight.
In this little craft so plain and still,
I’m just a paper crane on a windowsill.
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