i am neither
the beauty of my mother
or the strength of my father
i am some creature
some thing whom has
in one way or another
absorbed every part
every flaw
everything i despised
and claimed i would
never become
i am my mother's rage
uncontained
even by my father
i am his passivity
bothered, but afraid
i feel it inside
that change
that metamorphosis
my horrid, mangled wings
beginning to form
tipped with claws
that will surely gouge into
the flesh of those who
attempt to mend me
which will hurt more?
to watch all who come close
fall victim to my nature
or to tear these wings
from my horrid body
and hope to survive?
