An Innocent Soul


In the midst of brushing my white feathered wings

In profusion which curve at the tips

I heard some nearing nefarious steps

But I kept on brushing my white feathered wings


Brushing my wings, imagining the flight

Along with my ambitions I will ride

But why I kept on ignoring the ever nearing steps?

Those wicked threatening steps


Just when I curled and checked the tips once more

With pride I admired my wings of hope

The evil penetrated in..

And I felt myself crashing right to the floor


The blood oozing down from the rich white

I got killed before I ventured for the flight

The evil plucked my wings, no place to hide

I was a little bird before my first flight..


– S.F

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1 Comment

  1. J.Q.

    February 27, 2016 at 2:54 am

    good going

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