Description
i found him on a saturday. it was 2 am, and cold. he was on the ground, curled into a ball, crying. his shirt (or what was able to say attached) was ripped and torn exposing his flesh to the harsh winter air. his boxers were not present he covers himself by pulling his legs up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them, his forehead against his knees as he sobbed. i have an idea as to what happened. i approach him slowly, almost fearfully, as to why i feel scared i can not answer. he is an angel. he looks like a angel. it looks like god crafted this boy himself, as a present for the world. it is a gift for you to look at this boy who lies on the ground in an alley 2 weeks before christmas. his skin is a light shade of blue, hes shaking. I call out to him, i ask him if hes okay- does he need me to call the police he responds quitely, his voice scratched, hoarse, frail, broken "they clipped my wings."
01; bitterness and clipped wings.
