Day Thirteen.
Heavy petals feel of heaven’s feathers
Like an angel’s wings
Plucked from the fresh body of innocence
Shorn of shame leaving you bare and naked
Before the eyes of the sun and the melody of reason
Screeches like a snapped violin string
Even your upturned palms
Cannot bear this burden
Of eyes unseeing peering down upon you
This gaze will crush you and your will
Leaving you the shattered broken form
A wingless angel stripped of all that didn’t make you human
This is the disease ridden world
Where the grass against your cheek
Feels like shattered glass ripping into skin
That has never before felt the graze of reality
The voice which is pulled from you is alien
Horrified by the essence of self pouring from you
There are horrors in these hands.