Crutches & Wings

Hanging out on the footboard of the train, with a stub for his right leg, and a silver-diamond cross looking huge around his tiny black neck, he swayed his bandanna in the air. His hand was perpetually out, and he was smiling to himself. Singing an unknown song, blowing out kisses in the air to unseen girls and gods.

He hung on to his life of stubs and crutches like a crazy free bird.

PS: If it’s given to you, it can’t be called freedom.Hanging on to Freedom

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