take an angel and place it in the palm of your hand; you have all the opportunity in the world. let it spread its wings and soar into the sky without turning around nor looking at the world it leaves behind. or put it in a cage, where it flies into steel metal bars that mold into the shape of a little birdhouse. owe you a debt for the shelter, owe you its life for the burden, owe you its flesh for some white linen, owe you its tongue for a taste of freedom.
take an angel and drop it in the middle of the ocean; you had all the opportunity in the world. chain its legs with the thickest iron, rooted in slabs of concrete. let it fight for its freedom, its wings push the water, growing weaker with every advance. let the linen char and burn, and let the waves stain red from the chains name; “duty.” let it sink as the wings cease rebellion and lifelessly trail behind as it flows to the cold and dark bottom.
take an angel and let it sink in burden and despair from a life never lived, the heavy air placing a weight in its lungs. once, looking into the ocean seeing endless opportunity, now left with eyes bearing the sting of salt and iron, the taste of blood and ash on its tongue. take an angel and let its eyes beam red, its skin turn grey and loose. the burnt linen drag on the ground, the rags tattered and torn, telling the same timeless story again and again;
“i once had wings too.”
Kiran Speaks 