4:
I am still standing on two feet...
I'm starting to put on the heat...
I'm planning to fly high...
Into the night sky...
No one will reach me...
I will look around and I will see...
I will forget all the bad things...
And I will fly on my own two wings...
Up in the air, I can laugh into the wind...
I will leave my sorrows behind...
No heavy rock on my back...
No more things which I lack...
Some people won't notice that I'm not there...
Some people might see that I'm not to be found anywhere...
But I can't really care...
Because I'm here...
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts that rhyme
PoetrySometimes it's a story, sometimes it's just a thought or maybe a hidden message. But one thing they all have in common is that they rhyme. (Or supposed to)
