Failing Wings

She feels the free wind against her hair,
As cold and piercing as her waring stare,
Her tired eyes give into the midnights call,
The quiet whispering beckoning a fall,
One foot steps off the balcony tiles,
She's dreaming of escaping, flying for miles,
Yet her feet move to the beat of the wind howling,
No longer in misery will she be drowning,
She strips bare, a cherub in the night,
Ready to set against the lasting plight,
She thinks for a moment so brief,
Of how she's been led to perceive,
She thinks of all the miserable things,
Before setting flight with her failing wings.