This was both easy and hard to write. Thank you, Piro and Merekat. I think I'll go jump off a bridge, now. Or maybe I'll just drink some whiskey.

Broken Wings

By what shall lives be overturned,
And what grey mists enfold,
And what dark omens, yet unlearned,
Shall drift through forests, blackened, burned,
Like webs of angry smoke?

What brought you down this weedy path,
Why were you not more wary?
Could you not see the sullen wrath
Of tri-leaved poison-ivy plants
That shroud this sanctuary?

The wan light fades the stained-glass panes
That pierce the broken walls,
And sand has spread across the fane,
Washed within by chilly rains,
And shadows drape the hall.

You dance amid the seething throng
And yet, you dance alone,
And through your mind there wends a song
That shuns the Right, cares less for Wrong,
And fills your heart with Stone.

While those about me play at vice,
Their darkness is a pose,
For life in tempest has a price
Beyond their suppers of Bland Rice:
The sum of what they know.

The darkness waits for you to tire,
Resistance wears too thin,
And storms that rage without conspire
With storms that rave inside, and fires
Destroy you from within.

And so you sit within this wrecked
Cathedral of your dreams,
The musty shadows cobweb-flecked,
The candles cold, the floor unswept,
And ghosts drift by unseen.

There was a time that I could soar,
(The memory yet stings)
If I could patch the wounds that tore
My life that was, I'd fly once more,
And mend my broken wings.

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