I tied together the pieces of my bones into a cage.

I died tonight, another life lost in a scathing rage.

Sunrays embraced me only in my nightmares.

Yet they forge my tears into blades,

and pluck my feathers one by one.

They grin at my bleeding wings.

I hate it for being broken.

I hate being at a stranger’s mercy.

What use are the bare bones of my wings?

With no feathers, with no rights,

Wings, not a tool for my freedom,

But a curse that fills my burned eyes with hope,

Once again, I trust the glimpses.

Of possibility, a cage-free future,

The greenery grounds me and calls to my broken self.

Even if I am a frail bird with a stolen life,

Of all the lost lives, the lives that one shined,

It shone brighter than mere stars.

Although they are free, they are dead.

Oh, Death, I see him now.

This time, I will be his bride.

Not due to the blood I shed.

Not by the chains shackling my remaining breaths.

Not by the blades that consume my bones, flesh, and feathers.

Not by the cage I...