Words that I have

It's not that someone clipped your wings.
More alike to lathering them in mud.
A voluntary act.
Agendas to make one curious.
Now with wings so heavy,
you lay before me limp.
I stand the saddest witness,
no one likes to see an eagle fall.
I turn with your trend,
and claim a heavy heart.
Though not mud covered,
something less clear,
not transparent.
I am before you throwing water
in looks and thoughts of mine.
I wish to cleanse you,
to have you back,
and watch you fly.
I have seen you in your glory,
You wings spread and shining.
The amazement that you bring me,
you tuck inside your wing.
Why do you fold it so,
and hide everything.
The eagle with the pigs.
Although rumours insist,
no, they do not fly.