Winged

WINGED

– I recall the fall; when I was in pain;
“Before…” my ground was The Skies.
But to all of us, The Voiceless Voice
Only repeats a few amount of times.

I vowed to some day reminisce. I shot
My shot knowing I was going to miss.
“Doubt” stuck in my head like a beat;
A tone from the Serpent with no feet.

I fell. I didn’t wither. I felt the kicking.
In my book, The Ugly Duckling turns
Out to be a chicken. – I’m the winner.
My feathers won’t boil. I do not burn!

© RICARDO SEXTON

➕ RS:REV||VER

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