Darkened Skies

If flying had a purpose then wouldn't we all have wings,
Large dark masses filling the sky's,
Raining feathers from what appear to be clouds,
We would block the suns from view with our massive,
Dark, wings.

Flying with hatred towards our enemies we charge,
Menes in our hearts,
Pain in our souls,
We fold our wings to face them;
Flawlessly beautiful,
Full of such might and humbleness,
We see what we have been told we are to fight.

Some of us fall,
With tears in our eyes,
We see what we have become,
What we have been fighting.

Those who surrendered are lifted to the sky,
Dredged in tears of bleach,
Staining our wings white.
Then we fall,
Beside those we once called enemies,
and faced those we once trusted.