blackbirds

we are the broken, the torn asunder

damaged deformed defective

the scarred

wounded and bloodied

split and stitched

we survive

the anvils of crush

the shrapnel of hate

from dirt and metal and asphalt and ice
from mothers womb
and concrete sheets

we are extracted

asymmetrical scraps of what we were

once perfect in our imperfection

wholly we you me

we rise and rise and rise
and rise

on screwed black wings patched with pure will

destiny drives us to heights unattained

in dreams