Strapped on my back are broken wings
That don’t belong to me.
I’ll carry them up the steep hill
To throw them into the well.

Between the feathers was your smile
Woven with golden string.
The blood was filled with your spirit
Which long ago dried out.

Your back is dirty, almost black.
You’re human like everyone else.
And no one remembers the angel.
Not even the angel himself.
 
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