My Wings

The color of my wings, not something I've thought a lot of. Maybe it has something to do with that fact that I don't think much in color or it's just not something that ever really crossed my mind. TO be honest this is more my sister's field, but it is something that I can think about. Colors are important and each have a meaning to people, sometimes these meanings are different. For me, I'd say that my wings are a crimson red. Others might think that it means I'm dark and brooding, to be honest I'm far from it.1

Crimson red, a dark red, passionate and strong. They beat strong when they need to. They've seen that life is good, but defenitely not perfect. They wrap around those I love, trying desperatly to protect them from the montrosities of the world. They give off a mysterious, often times quiet feel, that's the darkness of them, but when something comes they light up, the pure red. Getting trampled wasn't a part of the deal when they came to me and they do their best to not be trampled.2

I know this is me. I don't give off a lot, don't shout out. Quiet is who I am, keeping things often times hidden. That's the darker side of me. When things hit though, something that I know is wrong and off kilter, something snaps in me and I light up. I may not yell, but I'll say what's what straight up. This would be the brighter side of me. Mix somewhat black and bright red together, and you'll get the crimson color of my wings. This is how I was made, how God designed me. There's a candle burning inside me and when He wants and He knows it's right, He sets it going so it's all that's there, a blazing fire. My wings aren't dark because I'm dark or depressed, no they're darker because I'm quiet, yet strong, something I only am through Him.