I know you’ll never fold your wings for me,

You’ll never look at me the way I look at you,

I know my scream is music to you,

And I can never be clean for you.

But with this I’ve made my peace, in truth;

My broken wings I drop and raise a sword instead.

To force a place in history for this shred of being,

This all but lost, tortured, twisted and misled.