The wind picks up,
and you fall to the floor,
You see your loved ones fly,
and yet you are on the floor,
wings broken; heart broken,
stuck on the ground,
crying.
The friends are in the air,
flying; and high off life,
They fly down sometimes to help you,
make you feel less alone,
but it doesnt work,
unless they have expirience,
So deep down,
until you find someone like you,
wings broken; heart broken,
then you will be alone.
YOU ARE READING
My poems, And Random Stuff
AléatoireI am a soldier. I am the one that is always on the battlefield. With scratch marks, and bruises. I try to carry on, I try to see the light. I reach for my guns, to try and abolish the enemy. The ones that want me dead. But I can't anymore. I've bee...
