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I see
the roses
in you, the
delicate
petals of
of being
human,
the thorns
of us have
broken
the chains,
our feathers
glide when
darkness
once
wished
to down
the soar
of our
wings,
feathers
glide from
loud howls,
floating
up to the
place we
call as
truth.
Sophie Mar 25
I sat at the edge
of the mountain

I looked out
at all the land

A winged creature
emerged from behind
the clouds

White feathered beauty,
delivering a message
from heaven.

There would be no
end to the
pain
and suffering
that love
on earth
could cause me.

Its talons grazed
my papery skin,
which ripped open
so easily.

I was bleeding out
into the soil,
as the vision
of a beautiful
bird
slowly flapped
its wings,
and flew
away.
Kelsey Feb 20
God, please grant me wings
So I can fly up to heaven
And kiss my father
Goodnight

So I can swerve through the clouds
To get to my father
Who waits for me in the glimmering light of the sun

Let me wrap my trembling arms around him
And wet the collar of his shirt
With hot tears

Allow me to scream
And cry
And whisper
That I love him
More than he could know

Please, God, grant me wings
Even just for the night
So I can tell my father
I'm going to be
Alright.
Lewis Feb 11
my crooked wings cannot fly
wrapped in white linen
their ridges rise like mountains
their feathers are beautiful and soft like harp strings

i will write letters inked with your name
but these letters are for me
and the birds that watch me in pity from the sky

do you love me?
will you hurt me?

i have not been scared for a long time
do you need fear to feel love?

leave me lonely i cannot fly
but you must
please
experimenting
maria Nov 2021
Made my heart a rock,
trying to brake
the camouflage
you wore,
trying to heal
your wings,
Fly was the dream

And then
you did.
And I waited for you,
you know,
I
was the one not flying
anymore.
And you left;
when I needed you,
You left
Written on November 17, 2021
© ,Maria
LC Oct 2021
every time I close my eyes,
my life beats behind my eyelids
like the wings of a butterfly
as questions form the rhythm
of a song that constantly plays.

Under the blue cloudless sky
White doves and pigeons
Flap wings and fly

Heritage domes, rustic brown
Stand clear of dust and sand
Glorious, withstanding every storm

Motor boats painted blue and green
Sharp the curvature, folded hands
Bow to the rising waters in the sea

Stillness of the silence
Clearly felt in the sound of the flapping wings
Broken leg, the bird could fly once
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