Winged glory, Label her an 'Angel'..
But she doesn't beleive in 'God' ..
And the pain of her cruci.fiction,
Burns into the soul..
Flesh searing, Body aching,
Scorching, char broiled,
Burnt to Ash and Cinder.
But her wingspan is 8ft.
So in her innocence.incineration,
She soars without moving,
Until preened feathers curl with heat,
Determination.Will to keep going,
The taunts and jeers, of onlookers..
Throwing stones and flaming arrows.
She won't ever be the same,
As her scarred.marred and imperfect.perfection
Skin is looked upon..
But to 'believers', She is still shrouded,
In winged beauty, as she soars..
So far above the heavens
That her breath is felt on earth,
As the sky implodes into welcoming her
Welcome ice fire of pure innocent exuberance..
But since her incineration,
Those sweet cool tones have changed,
Into a dark heat wave.
She burns a new path.