The shattered glass that paved the road
should have been a sign.
An apparent and insisting one
for all to see but the blind.

My moon had its moment of infamy
in a dull and darkened sky,
I've always had these angel wings
but tattered wings can't fly.

Please hold and protect me from this world,
for I know not what it holds.
I'm not sure where to go from here
do I let it ride... or fold?