Wounded Wings

Flapping frantically as my wings abide,
Embracing loneliness with a queen on every side.
Betrayal gradually broke the bird’s wings,
A majestic crow that sullenly sings.
He would rather winter bring him an empty heart,
Then be filled with plastic posies to be left in winter’s dark.
Wounds still sting, a gift of fraternal grace,
Left in mother natures hands to fill an empty space.
A new pace to a swollen but beating heart,
A new set of feathers, a new dream to start.
Pain settled low as new wings flourished high,
A support blessed on those brave enough to fly.
But brutal lacking swelled his every skin and bone,
Queens and Kings return, forever more alone.
Struggling to tell the difference between the night sea and sky,
Desperately wishing for old mornings on every star passed by.
Eventually the crow thrived on all that wasn’t there
Comforted by words unsaid, a bond only he could share.
The pigment of feathers, the pigment of night,
Both helplessly absorbed by the suns coaxing light.
Both have dulled in yearning for better days,
But are helplessly surpassed by the suns chilling rays.
Breaking down a wall, takes a candid fight,
Not to be hoped over in the trust of night.
Muted and sightless now, he can no longer fly away,
When wings were re broken more and more each day.