She stands, poised to fall.
A juxtaposition between the controlling and the powerless
both struggling for ownership of one young frail body.
She crouches, ready to release.
It is her own choice but yet not.
The fostering of mutations seizing years of
ugly
flat
harsh
words
that bring about loss.
Silhouettes against fire.
Because no one will ever remember her.
We let the ruin happen.
We strive to preserve a facade of glistening white marble
for Their eyes that never can see beyond Themselves.
We only let the loveliest of birds sings -
the others muted into a strangled pile of bodies on the floor -
because Their ears cannot hear, regardless.
We give Them Their power.
The predators do not hunt where there is no prey.
She is outstretched, ready for the wind to carry her.
A final act of defiance because they did not tell her to do it.
It was her own choice.
But yet, not.
But yet, not.
With trembling fingers she removes a smooth grey mask
revealing angelic features
white because they never saw the sun.
As they watch her fall some understand.
They too stood at the edge
hands on their mask but
too afraid to let go
because
at least anonymity is safe.
Others smile beneath their painted lips
and allow tears to obscure their victory
because
now no one can feel safe.
Too few understand the beauty of the flying angel.
But they remove their masks
permanently
in a silent salute to those who grow lost in the darkness
because
they were blind to their own light.
Explained here :)
