November 20, 2012 in Uncategorized

My wings are torn,
ragged with effort of flight
The feathers no longer tinged with gold

My hands are aching, bleeding and sore
From carrying away pain and heartache
So that mankind does not have to endure

No longer does my heart fill with love and hope
For no-one ever considers how angels are meant to cope

(c) Explorer
26 January 2011

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