Grasping at Wings

"Grasping at Wings"

When I was a small child
My heart was attached to youth
Like a feather to concrete
A whimsical solemnity.

I learned of a perfect life
One where my innocence
Prevented me from knowing
What life had in store.

A dark-winged deviant
Came by one day
Took away the angel
That granted life to me.

I grow, bitter, resentful
I do not understand
I cannot understand
Why I lost what I did.

I realize, now
That the reason why
My life was chosen to be
That of what it is now.

I sit, happy, with tears in my eyes
Crafting something angels could sing
And all I imagine on this day
Is me, grasping gently on her wings.