He only has a lonesome wing, the other was given away
gifts for mortal necessities, his down, he plucked astray
one was to a forsaken lass, to redeem a shadowed path
together they wove a single thread into a crimson sash
A feather was bestowed upon a mother and her hope
he gave her son the words he needed, he gave her son the world
the rest, they were distributed betwixt the remainder of life
and planted into earth one day, blossomed the next night
In night sky, he flew in silence, beginning a desolate descent
the stars, they know, wretched he, wanted acknowledgement
forgot him in the mist of time, from him, they loyally withdrew
his life, it was a simple thing, filled with solitude
His palms are broken, friendless red, his heart—an eager craze
so others with his feathered gifts may reach the top someday
alas, the tattered single wing, it beats, as he begins to stand
a pain as deep as shattered bones, a lonely conquest dance

posted - 7:08 PM