wings

She was as a child when they gave her to me. In a plastic jar that seemed out of place without a medical centre around it. I placed her on my window ledge, where I could see her in the fading light of the afternoons as I worked.
I forgot her there.
I left.
She must have pushed herself out gently at first. She must not have understood why the world was such an enclosed place. Her wings would have begun to grow and she must have felt the inherent need to unfurl them. I wonder if she knew that they were meant to float on gentle breezes. There was no place for her wings in this forgotten world I left her in. They must have crumpled, not knowing what to do with themselves.
Perhaps she felt tortured; felt that no one understood how she felt inside. Felt there was no place for her. I wonder if she knew of her own potential. I wonder if she knew that she was stifled through no fault of her own. I wonder if she knew that she was a biology project that I failed to turn in.