Dirty wings, dampened by the rain,
Little things, hampered by the day
They see you laugh, they see you smile,
Crack a joke once in a while, and
You’ll be okay, one of them,
A normal little girl with a tattered lacy hem.
Dirty wings, grey little things that fray,
Dusty words and scattered terms mean
Nothing at all to the ones who heard them scream.
Blonde little girls with darkened locks,
Angels being tampered with, wearing little bobby socks,
A shade of grey, damp and wet, a mangled hem,
Nothing that gets the attention of the mobs…
Dirty words, little wings, battered angels in a twisted
Fairytale place - can’t you see her broken face?
Little girl, smile away, that frayed hem gives nothing away…
Krystal D. Dailey