Even with broken wings
Even with shattered dreams
I'm still gonna try
I'm still gonna fly
Even with broken wings
I can do anything
I found a strength I never knew I had in me
With these broken wings.

Broken Wings Don't break a bird's wings and then tell it to fly. Don't break a heart and then tell it to love. Don't break a soul and then tell it to be happy. Don't see the worst in a person and expect them to see the best in you. Don't judge people and expect them to stand by your side. Don't play with fire and expect to stay perfectly safe. Life is about giving and taking. You cannot expect to give bad and receive good. You cannot expect to give good and receive bad. Does it happen? Yes, but don't make that an excuse for you to keep doing what you know is wrong. Don't blame life for what you do. That is so selfish and ignorant on your behalf.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

Without love, we are birds with broken wings.

You came to me with
broken wings.
I helped you heal your
wounds
by pouring love into the
broken pieces of
your soul.
You flew away
when your wings were healed.
You left me here,
chained to the ground,
trying to remove the shards
that got stuck in my own wings
as I took them out of yours.

Where did gratefulness
go?
I will not let your deception
make me not want to help more
broken wings out there.
Your lack of gratitude
will not make me
not give.
I do not give just to
be thanked.
But it does not mean that
it does not hurt.

Without love we all like birds with broken wings.

The bird that would soar above the plane of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.

Her glass wings are gone.

Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly.

The livers are torn apart, and the wings are torn apart when we hear or see our brothers in religion, in the homeland, and in blood, their sanctities are violated, they are displaced and abused daily, not for something they committed, nor for the aggression they attacked, but for the love of control and aggression and to commit injustice.

Give me a break! Ooh, let me try! Give me something to show For my miserable life! Give me something to take! Would you break even my wings, Just like a swallow?

And their feathers once so fine grew torn and tattered
And in the end they traded their tired wings
For the resignation that living brings.

Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.

Kabul, love was a wounded bird, with broken wings and a fragile heart.