I once thought I was flying,
through the delightful air
soaring with freedom.

In all truth...
it was a lie.

From who I was back then,
I for sure,
was flying in a world of bliss.
A stone cold sky,
burning indefinitely all the while,
the sky was red and black,
my body was crumbling
into the charred ashes
that I considered my worth.

I flew under the world,
riding on flaming blue pain.
My lead wings were a burden,
dragging me below the earth,
giving me a comfortable hellscape,
The only place I called home.

The blue flame of pain had engulfed me,
and the lead wings of my blade dug deeper.

To shed them was to carve out a part of me.