• One winged singled alone malcontent ready to go home
    What’s a one winged angel to do in a two winged world?
    One white one black, which have you (I) lost thrown out
    Unknown everyone see’s but no one acknowledges one
    Malformation can still leave you a beauty but how can a
    World such as yours (mine) look past a single scar imperfection
    Ha, perfection you have your beauty but ask again do you
    You see me but do you, branded as a outcast not meant to live
    Just cause I have one wing left, do you know my story
    Or just assume you do? Do you know if I’m still white or
    Am I one that’s dark and doomed? Which wing have you (I)
    Lost, world of perfection no the dark ones are you clouded
    By vainglory, no perfection it’s inaccessible in yours (my)
    World forth false pretense of beauty leaves us all wrought
    For what if I lose my wing? Which white or black? Does it
    Matter you ask? Is vanity and perfection all you live for? I ask
    If so yes then you are already doomed, perfection ha! Misguided
    Such are you can’t you see, no your vision is clouded so you
    Have did so wrongly assumed, I still have my white wing
    Now look which do you have you? I walk this world misunderstood
    An outcast in your eyes pathetic and doomed, sick sympathy you offer me
    Thinking inside your unknowing hearts what a tragedy beast
    What’s a life like yours to lead without two wholesome beauty wings?
    Yet all I do is live for you my eyes well with tears for your misguidance
    Every time I see another who loses their wing, there casted aside
    Left to die waiting and wanting….mournfully I sigh there so unknowing
    With one left they don’t know black or white which color they
    Have been dyed, “do they hear their cries that I do”
    Melancholy the most lament tune their voice strings
    Writhe….I live and try to stand for others who have scars which are
    Interchangeable to mine try to tell them there still whole not doomed
    There not a penny which was once a dime, still some are out of my reach
    Stained still with this false pretense of beauty death dreams come I hear
    There last cry the one you know that proves they really don’t want to die
    Too late, now do you see? Your clouded by this vision, just cause your
    Scarred doesn’t mean all you have left is darkness you’re not doomed
    Dyed black or bleached white, it’s a test your decision but heed
    And think for whomever decides to decide their own fate is usually
    The black wing or who so thinks they should decide another’s
    That two winged and ones isn’t for us to decide
    I wear my scar I still have my beauty I still can fly look into your
    Heart and not always with your eyes