Where can they fold up wings
so every drop and the
drop’s shrapnel misses?
How do they avoid
fat hidden drips waiting
to ruin a sunny takeoff?
What are their wings
but dissolvable beauty
charcoal without a canvas
sheered dreams that fly
I know my feelings
get hammered by words
certainly the heavy true ones
punch holes that bleed
Perhaps its innocence
or an angel with an umbrella
that helps their odds
while the rest of us
trust the guilt that built
the old roof to save us
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