What is a dove that cannot fly free?
Caged in the hands of a dæmon crushing it like grapes
Like a child to a butterfly peeling off its wings
And the screams it makes loud and unheard
In an empty room it cries out to the gods
Yet helpless the dove somehow feels empowered
In pain it lays there in the dæmon’s hands
Looking up towards the light
Even in the darkest of caves
The dove reaches out for hope
Crushed, bloody, bruised
Unable to move
Yet the dove moves forward
Knowing that someday it shall be free
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