Five hundred miles
Up in the sky
Circling pigeons
Know we can't fly
They peck at our joined hands
They want us to die
I feel you loosen your grip
Why won't you look me in the eyes?
The tightrope snaps-
Your last lie
Suspended mid-air
We climbed too high
I clutch your hand tighter
Determined not to cry
Panic sets in
I'm terrified
You could have saved me
But you didn't even try
Nothing more to say
Except...
Good bye.
YOU ARE READING
Good Bye.
Poetrythe idea for this came when i was half asleep :) please read i think youll like it