My wings are broken.
I broke them for you.
I would do anything for you, and I barely know you. Barely because there is a little of you inside me, and a little of me inside you. Oh, you stare at these words on this page and think me poetic, but I am not. My wings are broken because of you. No longer will I fly upon high singing your praises to the others, the voices which I shall no longer hear now that I have grounded myself for you and only you.
Only.
For.
You.
And yet you turn your eyes away. I gave it all up for you, and your ony resonse is to turn your eyes away. Oh yes, turn your eyes from the freak, from the bloody angel who broke it�s own wings for you. The one who shall never again be what it was, turning it�s back on everything it held dear just for you. Only you! Why do you not believe me? Why do you look upon me with scorn and disgust? Am I really so hideous to you now that I�ve I�ve fallen off your pedastal of perfection?
I hate you. You made me into this.
I love you. You made me who I am.
Why do you torment me so? You play with the strings, jerking my body to and fro for your own childish amusement. Dance, puppet, dance. Dance while the pain trying to be hidden is easily seen, to be played and replayed for you whenever you want on your pretty little telivision screen.
Why aren�t you smiling? You�ve played me for the fool, come laugh up your victory over me. Are the strings too tight around your fingers? Is that why there are tears in your eyes?
My wings are broken.
I broke them for you.
Don�t you see?
Why do you hate me?
Your gaze finally settles upon me, and my heart fills with hope. Perhaps finally I exist for you, perhaps we can save each other from what we are.
And then you step on my wings.