spread out glamorously for all to see;
for all to admire.
The majestic shade of emerald glimmering,
the pale silver contours traced across each gem,
but yet, these wings will never flap again.
These wings will never feel the rush of the air
or the heat of the sun...
And these wings will never fill the imaginations of a wandering child.
Never again to inspire the grace of flight
or to continue its dance with the fireflies.
These wings are to remain on the sterile page,
never to regain its former glory.
A sea of brilliant colors contrasting the ever blank,
destined to waste away all its vitality and beauty
in some paper cage.