The White Dove

Unwelcome to a world,
Were pain is real,
This is a world of hate,
When I light the wings on fire,
When you smell the fumes,
When the Doves wings burn,
Do you feel pain too,
Can you survive without feeling,
When I tear the wings off,
Life seeps away threw the crescent patches,
Blood covered wings dye white feathers red,
Can you handle the pain,
Can you be in my world,
Fight my death?

Ian Robert Potapoff