Sangria bird sings

_{Poem by [Linderel]}

Red of heart, of soul, of hand
her reality is this impassioned act
this prison that she cannot stand
a glass shell that could not be cracked

Captive, shamed and on display
yet her fire-tipped wings burn
even as they begin to fray
and a bitter hatred, churn

All those lies have left her helpless
stranded, with shreds of dignity
hanging around in fragile threads
but she does not want their pity

Weakened yet still not broken
she'll smile till everything blurs
and tear his own heart wide open
as thanks for twisting hers