Anchored to the ground
Like a trapped Phoenix
I flap my wings, trying to break free
I scream out my pain, hoping for freedom
Thoughts flying around
Poking, agonising
Saddening and bleeding
The blue skies , still a distant dream
The idea of solace , a myth I want to believe
Lying in the pool of my tears
Stained by the red of my blood
What are my wings for?
Nothing but a feathered attire
To cover my withering body
—Archangel
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