Saturday, January 7, 2012
Her heart is bent inside. So are her scorched back feathers, dark as a sooty star deep in the crevices of space and time. Her eyes are dark yet clear, emitting a faint white glow only when she is lively and stuck with hope. She is torn. She is torn by society and the things it says to her and does to her. She can't fly away. Not even her wings can carry her. And now she chokes from the dirty string that tightens around her bloody, deceased neck. There are no tears to comfort her. She doesn't even wish to hope, for she is scared to face it. The blood only drips faster. The heart only slows more. The sun only sinks lower. Life always ends, she knows, and with all of this agony she endures, she smiles at the last of the blue sky and the first of the stars, then passes by never to return.