A place and a day
neither too far away.
I waited, I was scared.
I had failed to be feared.
The words in my head.
They are dead.
Beneath my feet
things with wings.
The air above my shoulders
has its own holders.
Wings on my back
something they lack
and they are laid flat.
My heart and my soul
don't hold on their own.
And their owl
does something foul.
The rains from the skies
have their own eyes.
Goddesses puppets
have limited uses.
My ribs are skattered
my body lies broken.
My wings are shattered
my soul in wrong folder
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