What use an angel
Whose wings have been clipped?
Flight an impossibility
Salvation nothing but a fever-dream.
What use is there for a heart
Too fractured and fragmented
To beat in a steady cadence?
How can it be expected to love?
How crippling it is to find
That my heart stutters
My eyes dim and my wings are broken.
Loss and betrayal
Eat away at me
Degrading, damaging, ruining.
Always lessening the whole of me.
I am human, or perhaps a changling.
Encased in iron, cut off from magic,
Both my own and that which inhabits the world.
Flawed, scarred, damaged goods.
I am no angel.
I am nothing you could call good.
A flawed design that does not fit,
I am of no use.
For who keeps a broken toy?