13books

These Stained Wings of Mine Dirt, taints, and stains This crimson blood from my veins Are my wings merely canvases On which you have the right to paint? I might not be holy, or a saint But my wings are sacred And I wish that one day They would be my ticket away Torn, destroyed, and dead You have merely brought me dread By your words, cold and menacing I am struggling, craving to be free But do you enjoy torturing me? Captured in your rough grasp These wings of mine are now stained Unable to fly, bound and chained Hurting, lying and such You have done so much To keep me here, caged like a bird My wings, once so strong and f