Poor little thing
Your flesh is scattered everywhere
Your blood is running
But you're still here

Your skin is damaged
Just like your little warm heart
And the wings with which you were endowed.

But your corspe seems so fine
No one except yourself can see all of these injuries
To see them they would need to cross your line
And you won't let them do it

You're feeling so ashamed
Ashamed of this body you're hiding
This body which is dying and perishing
But your shattered spirit is still here
It's still in pain

Broken little thing
You don't need pity anymore
You don't have a heart anymore
You don't have skin anymore
You don't have flesh
You don't have blood
You don't need all of this
You're all ice now isn't it exiting ?
You can't die you're technically already are
But your shattered mind is still here
Hiding in your perfect new body.