The wounded wings

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