Me, Myself, and Redwinged

I am Redwinged.  This is what I call myself.  Why Redwinged?  It is me.  It is who I am.  Now matter how far or high I fly, my wings are tipped with red - the colour of pain, of sorrow.  It is inescapable.  But that does not mean that all is lost, that I cannot trill a sweet melody to break through the silence, the monotony, and the insanity of each day.  And when I spread my wings and expose the crimson, I expose my suffering to the world.  And in baring myself, I heal.  And with song, I heal.  This is why I am Redwinged.