domenica 1 giugno 2014


What's left to an angel with wrecked wings?

Fallen,chained to the abyss,
I look to the impentetrable blanket of clouds above me
I see the skies form whence I was exiled
I see my brothers flying free
I grind my teeth and scream
I curse the sun, the god that condemned me to this fate.

Afflicted by eternal solitude
I wander within the mortals
wishing the day I tasted ambrosia
were never been.

-- Hawke Isaacs

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