While laying on the ground,
You feel the dirt and filth rise,
Settling dust as it surround
The encompassed mortal guise.
As gliding against gravities pull,
Beset halo of unclean,
Scuffling your wings lull,
Drag to broken humanity no longer keen.
Opening your fresh baby eyes,
No more vibe or brilliance,
Only somber sounds, shapes and surmise.
Given up, wondering of hopeless resilience,
And thus you still wake,
Forever changed, clipped and disgraced.
Never again seek or to partake,
In pristine angelic flight of haste.
Copyright © Dani Petersen | Year Posted 2007
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