FALLING ANGEL (Generation's Chains)

I was raised on tainted wooden floors of blood,
warped by constant pools of tears,
built upon spotted noises -- often raising rage,
inside a caring but more troubled heart.
the chains of generation's past
was still not to be broken.

My youth existed behind the walls,
where I could see the angels yield...
Floors were stained,
for wooden floors cannot absorb the pain,
they warp where children shed their tears,
and angels fall;
loose from the rage of paternal generations,
and maternal misunderstandings of love....

It was in my window
that the sun seared holes into his moon,
where each evening sky,
threw down to earth the sparkling beauty of the stars.
I saw my breath upon my window glass,
and mapped a course of uncharted futures
from the chains of generation's past.