Standing upon the edge of a cliff

She spreads her arms out to the side

And laughs at the world for all its worth.

With one hand she cups the moon into her palm.

Upon the other hand,

She shows to the populace what life truly means.

All the pain, the suffering,

Every person of high rank a fabulist,

The stench of decaying values chokes the mighty civilizations,

Until the emerald forests take on a cadaverous hue.

No freedoms are left,

In her mind,

Save that of flight.


A deafening roar breaks forth from her crimson lips,

As a pair of ashen wings push through the softened flesh and shattering bone.

Blood flicks into the ebony night

With each experimental flap of her freedom.

She bows low to the ground as a final farewell to the world,

And with clouded eyes gazes at the stars above.


A smile dances upon her face,

As she sways suspended in the air,

Rope wound tightly about her pale throat.

Her freedom gained;

For now, and eternity,

She soars.