Your Quills My Feathers Poem by Last Wish

Looking at myself in the mirror
Darkness swelling in my heart, is there a cure
Watching my white wings slowly fade to grey
Names and labels, watching my feathers fall away
You know me not still you make assumptions before
looking in my heart
Social status is the bookshelf that sets us apart
My tough exterior hides the most delicate of pages
With words so hard understand even for the most talented of mages
Fates just an angel writing with feathers picked from his wings
He writes of souls and the final songs they sing
Life, death, love and hate each a different melody
Ranging from death metal to a classical symphony
You write me in your story as the antagonist
When you don't have the title of protagonist
so pick of your own fiendish quills to write your book
Don't write mine with my feathers you took