Can you hear yourself when you speak?
Do your words make sense to you?
You say you want to cut my wings
For you can't love me otherwise.
You say this as you spread your wings
And fly through the forbidden heights.
I got buried, time and time again,
By lovers of beauty that toyed my brain.
And they tell me I was already insane,
"What did you need those wings for again?"
If mirrors could do justice,
They'd show you your ugliness.
The self that you pride in,
Would then be revealed as sickness.
Your hands can stain themselves in my blood,
Rob me of the open skies,
And I will build myself again
For I know I will survive.