In the soil that is darker
Than the cypress trees that lead to the sky
Our people
Know that sky...

The fragments are broken
And taking blood along with them as they fall

My beeswax skin is melted into something sweet smelling
And my crystal bones are broken
The thing that should be wrapped up with this body
Is a soul that cannot decay

Even in those distant, ancient times
Even then there was no future
All those years ago

The wings that I lost were blue
They were the proof I was loved by the sun people
I've told the clouds I am here
But I want to tell someone...

Our appearance is both beautiful and ugly
That's what we were born to be, but...
Please kill us
We are not the children of gods

The funeral procession is being sent
To the poisonous moth's scales

The thing that guides the strings of light
Is it faith or illusion?
Surely in the world of eyelids
Is a reality that doesn't collapse.

A few traces of life return
From the mud of the end

The wings I am gifted with are black.
They are the symbol of an angel and a devil's embrace
Another heartbeat will now
Violate my thin body.

I close my eyes, I open my eyes
Since the daybreak, since the dark night
Without being deflowered by the death and rebirth
Of disassembly and conception.

The wings I'll be born with are white
I will embrace them
If my wish for them comes true
I was told to go to that place
But what am I waiting for...?

Only flapping my wings
It is so easy
To fly away like this

The fall that isn't permitted anymore is higher

The Princes in Tower by John Everett Millais, 1878

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