It has proven hard to forgive
The moon and the yew tree
Even at such a distance
I cannot consider a warm glow
Warm

And talons are not so
Simply mistaken for
Red scarves
Even with the blood on my shoulders

The lady of the wind she knows
How hard I fight to fly
Wings outstretched
But my bones are not hollow

My face in the mirror
Spreads like microwaved butter
And soils all those sunsets
With the promise of tomorrow