Why do I sit and pluck feathers off my wings, one by one, Asking constellations if I’m over, if I’m done— When my pulse keeps telling me the story just begun, But the ache keeps whispering, “Child, you’re the only one.” (Second vocal enters like a shadow) I feel your trembling hands, tearing at what helped you fly, You mistake molting for dying, you mistake silence for goodbye. You think losing feathers means you’re falling from the sky, But I see you— there’s lightning in the way you cry. Oh, the cosmos won’t answer in language you can hear, It speaks in shivers, speaks in memories you fear, It let your feathers fall because the new ones must appear— And pain is just a chorus only angels volunteer. (Harmony braids in) If you knew how bright you burn, You’d never question why you yearn, You’d understand that every feather lost Is how phoenixes return. You pluck feathers like confessions written on a note, Bleeding prayers into the orbit of the stars you can’t decode. You peel off the person you wore like a cloak, Thinking the shedding is a failure— but shedding made you whole. (Whisper vocal) I see you trying not to drown In waters you created, I see you stitching your own skin In places they once hated. You think the end is calling, But darling, that’s projection— You’re not collapsing, you’re evolving Beyond your own reflection. Two voices intertwine here— One trembling from the hurt, One steady like a guardian That’s been through all the dirt. You ask the sky if you’re finished, It echoes back “no, you’re not.” It lets you doubt because survival Taught you strength you never caught. The feathers weren’t your weakness— They were chapters of your story. But wings grow different when you build them From heartbreak turned to glory. (Dual sustained harmony) And I know you think you’re empty When your bones start learning flight, But wings don’t form from comfort— They form in sleepless nights. You pluck and pray for closure But what you’re praying for is proof, Proof that every scar you carry Never counted as uncouth. You wonder if you’re dying When you’re actually alive, For rebirth never walks in softly— It comes like fire in the tide. (Soft, aching harmony) So let the feathers fall, love, Let them rest without regret, For every one that leaves you bare Gives space for wings not built yet. You ask cosmos for permission To keep breathing while you mend, But the cosmos already answered When it kept you through the end. The beginning isn’t waiting— It’s happening as you bleed. Your heart is growing architecture From destruction you don’t need. And one day you will rise With wings that don’t resemble pain, They’ll carry you like armor forged In every tear that hit the rain. (Perfect vocal union, gentle and devastating) You're not done— You never were— You’re becoming the version Your suffering inferred. You pluck feathers like you’re failing, But you’re carving space for flight. The cosmos never said “you’re finished”— It said, “survive tonight.” And you did. Which means you’ve won. This ending never ended— Your story just begun.
