And then the <br />cold god <br />will pat me on my head <br />and give me <br />another's broken wings: <br />'See if you can fly' <br />he says to me <br />before <br />cutting the world in two, <br />before <br />pushing me <br />out there, into the <br />hole of his heart <br />where death was born <br />from a half eaten apple.<br /><br />Junkyard Of Muses<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-239/
