I want to fly.

Fly away,
away from the screams and shouts and smashed glass.

Spread feathery wings of gold,
and be called beautiful for once.

Drift among the clouds,
and be free.

Let the wind decide my direction,
hand my fate to nature.

But I cannot.

The screams will echo in my ears,
before I realise they're mine.

His breath will be punctuated with shouts,
and I can do no more then cower.

The scarlet on his knuckles will match,
match the shards of window on the floor.

Match the bruises I pretend are from a fall,
the scars I've gotten to used to hiding.

My dreams of flying, of freedom,
will remain that.

A dream.