Vampire Wings

Her wings,
like the fragile, soapy outside of a bubble,
blown through the pink plastic stick.
They are weak,
not yet ready to carry her out of the
iron cage that holds her thoughts prisoner.
Her dark thoughts a slave.
The blade, so sharp, shedding the blood,
searing with vampire lust.
She wants to be their black rose, always clean,
but holding their dark secrets.
Their secret keeper.

But her wings are growing,
ready, taking her away to the sky,
to deliverance.
She has lived a life full of terror,
but her fairy wings,
her vampire wings,
carry her to a place of pure immortality,
in the realm of darkness,
after her suicide;
she takes flight.