The wilting of wings
behind iron grip;
clipped off and flaccid
is each rigid rip
Hand crafted splendour
created most grand
labyrinth beauty
hidden in smote hand
Cagèd in spirit,
soul being smothered –
Cries and pleas stifled
within viced cover
Wounded eyes peer out.
These wings want to fly;
to orb horizon
and imprint wide sky…
Fly away, be free.
Heed: the time is now.
Battered and broken
these wings forget how
