My wings are broken, my feathers, strewn across the floor.
With tattered wings I can't fly, when misplaced dreams fill my mind.
My feathers are a pure, holy white no longer, tainted with crimson red.
They mock me, laugh at me, smirk, as I lay dead…crying…forgotten.
My feathers were my identity, but now my identity is gone.
My feathers were my soul, but that was loss so long ago.
My feathers were my heart, cut out, and served on silver platters.
Broken, broken bird, your wounds will never heal. Feathers,
ripped out for good. My identity, my soul, my heart….
my feathers are gone.