Sometimes when you throw yourself off a cliff and wish to soar,
You are dashed against rocks,
Taste nothing but dirt and defeat.
And sometimes when that happens,
You see others upon the same edge,
And you do everything you can
To rip them apart.
Your strong arms,
Meant to lift you above the clouds,
Bludgeon.
Your curled claws,
Meant to clasp perfectly around rest and support,
Sink and shred.
You rip the feathers away from others,
Leave them pink,
Goose-pimpled,
Bare.
This is for their safety.
Behold, a man.
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