Brush the Sky

~Brush the Sky~

When I entered hell
the demons all had wings of black
slick and ridged and shining
graceful on their backs

When I entered heaven
the angels' wings were white
glistening and soft and smooth
spreading wide in flight

When I entered the forest
the fairies watched me pass
their colorful wings aflutter
shining mosaics of glass

But the wings I hide are dreary
and monotonously grey
they gape with holes and broken bones
in a lifeless sort of way

If I pretend that nothing's wrong
as I fly with damaged wings
Perhaps will all that hurts me
turn into better things

Spiral staircase to somewhere
they say you'll touch the sky
but I can't even brush the clouds
with wings that will not fly