Head was hastily hung low as halcyon wings
did shimmer in fading virtue. How could one
of such integrity slumber on what was now
a form of revulsion brought by her words.
Exasperated by another's thoughts, syllables
have influence upon the world. what was
before her shame was grotesque in nature
but still looked upon her with mournful sight.
Shrouded in what were once as she was now.
Each aurora now jagged remnant penetrating
forth from ones form. Garbs suspended over
a lingering form defiled by what they covered.
Surroundings did falter at what enveloped this
form, all were now echoes of what was.
Leafs had fallen like tears and stagnated upon
a corrupted shell where life was eroding her tears fell.
Wings that shone once like a star in the sky,
now dissipating in to tears that her creation does
cradle within its features. Her head draped low as
words were spoke, syllables restrained no longer spoke.
Her prison of thought in this world below. Her sentence
to see what her actions awoke. It yearns for what was
taken, what was before. But all it sees is her wingless
form, and knows they are both prisoners on there own.
