Wings

A broken angel, gifted from the heavens. Not meant for this world, but for a world higher than any other.

A gift from the heavens

A tiny body made of youthless clouds

Eyes of silver rounds

Heart of cotton, threaded with coral birds

In melody calling

Delicate, austere

Light,

Absent presence

A broken angel; losing its lively crescent wings to the fatality

Of mortality.

Special, 

In ways the world never could stimulate.

Smart,

In the way his mind always caught him before his steps.

In the way his heart stopped breathing before his breath.

In the way he questions the world, but never seems to question himself.

Survivor, 

For a tiny body of clouds, lifting him to where his dreams always did.

With eyes of silver rounds, that saw far more than to be seen.

With the cotton heart, where coral birds reside in song.

In melody, calling his vast slumber.

Unleashed, 

A circus of rainbow flaps within him.

The melody, replaying in tens

Filling up his innocence

A bird,

Of celestial giving

Losing its lively crescent wings to mortality.

A broken angel

A broken limb

A broken heart

A broken sing

Born to begin

Disease of the skin

Identical twin

Let him begin

Reliven

In death do us part,

And heart do us live.