your feathers didn´t
distangle themselves from
your heart and.. I wonder
what kind of hands did grab them of
I so wish to mend them back but
it´s matter of time they´d fall
those feathers on streets now so
rare
reminding us of purity that no longer is
here
reminding us how naked we are
exposed
for digging nails of time
burning rays of death

and now
our desperate attempts
staining ink over
heart and soul
over naked eyes
to mislead them
from few feathers we have left
Iam sorry for you and
for myself
I´ll have your last feather and
search for those you lost
I´ll give them care revere and protection
not because they´re feathers but
your blood are on them left