I am ash, Embers, And burning feathers, Drifting through the firmament. Carried by wind, As if my wings were not vestigial To land I am anchored By murderous gravity. I am reformed, Only to be torn apart, Again, And again Every trace Recycled reminders, Of who I used to be. I became blood, On the hands of criminals. I became the noose Around my own throat From death I am become