Just another human, struggling to breathe within the hoarding mass of millions.
I have no voice,
I can not speak,
But like you I have a choice,
To be heard is what I seek.
By needle my lips sewed shut,
The bird in my chest caged by the ribs,
Everyday on the fringe just a half blood mut.
Look over there - my crushed wings lay worshipped in that crib,
No voice, so words of ink I write.
Collapsing and burning out we aim for the stars so bright.
Burn away this never night.
Bloodied fists I will go out with a fight.
When I am gone, my words of ink will remain in the light.
- Chasing Dreams and Fallen Stars
- JoinedMay 22, 2020
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Story by HeirsOfBlood
- 1 Published Story

Ripping Wings Off Of Butterflies
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What is evil? Who are the impurities? What changes us, rips us, leaves us for the dead? You will fall, get...