She is a fallen angel.
The weight of life has dragged her down from heavens.
Her mind is dark like the closet she’s been hiding her magic in.

She cut her wings down to stubs
And left dark burgundy marks on her skin - a thousand scars.

Now she sits on the bed in a psych ward, looking out the window.
A window that’s locked (she checked)
A prison disguised as a healing place.

They keep her inside, when she’s been born to fly.
She wants to ascend back to heaven,
But they won’t let her die.