Imagine the wings that from birth were supposed to carry you to the heavens, but instead you hide them under your clothes, trying not to let anyone see them. These wings that were once supposed to be a symbol of your freedom now seem like a burden. They cling to the fabric, hiding from a world that is not ready to see them, from a society that would look at them with incomprehension and judgment.
Hiding them is like giving up a part of who you are, as if every time a cloak or cape covers them, they become a little smaller, a little weaker, and with them your freedom fades away. It's not just an act of protection, it's an act of self-sacrifice, where you choose every day to live within other people's expectations instead of taking off and showing the world your true nature.
But by hiding them, you can't get rid of their weight. The wings still pull you down, as if to remind you, "You were supposed to be different. You should have taken off." But instead you hide them, trying to fit in, striving to be someone society sees you as, even if it's not you.
And each time you hide them, it gets harder and harder. The wings weigh on you not only physically, but mentally as well, their presence a constant reminder that you're not who you're supposed to be. To hide them is to fight with yourself, to deprive yourself of the flight that could have been your freedom, but instead turns into an eternal burden that you live with every day.