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Frequent Flyer

Ironic don’t you think?

Even clipped

These wings instinctively move with the wind,

They’re slapping at my face

Hoping I fall from the sky

Pulling but I keep pushing

Must be hunting season

Feels like I’ve got a target on my back

Critics don’t cut me any slack

I just smile and keep writing

Silently flying

On my way to the top

It’s a lonely ride

But I’m not ready to stop.