How shall my wings grow? I hope you shall never know

I cannot think them a gift from some thankless god but from some spineless demon from far below
I want to imagine these wings with white ivory feathers so soft to slide gently between my tired bent fingers
Instead I see a black cloak of darkness with my wings reflective upon the moon drenched night
Shall I fly in the darkness with the stars to my back?
Never to see the daybreak or light streams glistening on the water below
I am not to be the angel of glory but the bringer of sorrow
How shall my wings grow?
If you are good, you shall never know