"I'm falling."
"No you're not. Stand up tall, Finch. Crazy little bird."
Says the Raven. Nevermore.
Did the Raven even remember Finch? Those moments together locked in gilded cages. Side by side.
The Raven curled at the bottom of the cage. Blood and Feathers every where like a Ruby and Onyx gory ridden display.
Finch would swing in her own gilded cage. Sublime in her own hideaway of her fractured and broken mind.
To be broken wasn't so bad.
She knew of the rage, knew of the despair, of the shattered joy that was but illusion.
Delusion.
Phaedra, pretty winter swan had given up her wings, the Raven had them plucked and torn... and what of Finch.
Finch's feathers were clipped. Trimmed. Domesticated.
Or maybe she was free.
A wild bird.
Some times it felt as if she was all forged of a life made for sugar cane and tears, other times of desire and zambuca, and then those moments of fury and hot chocolate.
So many flavors in her spirit.
Manifested.
Emotions like colors in the smoke quartz of her sight.
Free from all that now.
No more cages. No more bars.
Yet she was still trapped... and in between.
For in the midst and middle of Death and Dreams there could only be Delirium.
http://www.supermodels.nl/ModelPics/lindanyvltova/105.jpg
"No you're not. Stand up tall, Finch. Crazy little bird."
Says the Raven. Nevermore.
Did the Raven even remember Finch? Those moments together locked in gilded cages. Side by side.
The Raven curled at the bottom of the cage. Blood and Feathers every where like a Ruby and Onyx gory ridden display.
Finch would swing in her own gilded cage. Sublime in her own hideaway of her fractured and broken mind.
To be broken wasn't so bad.
She knew of the rage, knew of the despair, of the shattered joy that was but illusion.
Delusion.
Phaedra, pretty winter swan had given up her wings, the Raven had them plucked and torn... and what of Finch.
Finch's feathers were clipped. Trimmed. Domesticated.
Or maybe she was free.
A wild bird.
Some times it felt as if she was all forged of a life made for sugar cane and tears, other times of desire and zambuca, and then those moments of fury and hot chocolate.
So many flavors in her spirit.
Manifested.
Emotions like colors in the smoke quartz of her sight.
Free from all that now.
No more cages. No more bars.
Yet she was still trapped... and in between.
For in the midst and middle of Death and Dreams there could only be Delirium.
http://www.supermodels.nl/ModelPics/lindanyvltova/105.jpg