and finally i can't fight anymore
my will has turned to dust,
bloody trails in the dirt where i've been clawing
scraped off the concrete, i survive
barely but inescapably
salvaged by an intangible grace
his wings are stitched fibers,
joy and purity and ecstasy
woven together with silver string
i've been touched by an angel
reminded of what consciousness can be
resurrected at last
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