Laying in a bed of black flowers. Vines wrapping around my wrists.
Clouds looming overhead as a shadow towers.
Kisses caressing the bruises upon my fists.
Thorns pricking me all around.
With red crimson coating the tips.
Pushing me firmly against the ground.
Silent screams from closed lips.
Staring at the unchanging sky.
Broken wings aching to take flight.
Grasping hard enough to make fingers cry.
The cold breathes deep behind the fading light.
- Quiet-Emerald