The rain piecers her mind
bringing back past memories
unwinded by the worries of her heart.

Are her wings still the same?
They used to be so small
white as the wings of an angel
graceful but painful
carrying all the weight of her shame.

One day,
she woke up from her nightmare
flames running through,
nothing was in vain.

She was already burned out
dragging with time,
waiting for the night,
waiting for her knight.

Counting seconds until she fell asleep,
that's when she felt most at peace.

Days went by, like the wind without a breeze
they went by, running away from all her butterflies.

— Jackie B.

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