Clipped Wings

Imagine the amount of damage just by bounding somebody for a whole year.

Plaguing their every dream and infecting their souls with disconsolate fear. 

Angels laying dead in a sky condemned to cry.

Their Icarus wings clipped and no longer fit to fly.

Driving sanguinity to black from white.

Running their blood cold for some demented and twisted appetite.

Once I lay blind and now the dark is all I see.

Still they love you despite a desire of ardent pain and sick fantasy.

Written by © Christopher Holliday