They say that we can do anything before we die.
If that's so true, then why can't I spread wings and fly?
I bet I'll be able to do just that after I go,
I'll be an angel, though no one would know.
I wish I could do that here, I wish the words were true,
I wish my wings had come before the end. Don't you?
I'm going now, and I won't see you for a while.
Don't be sad. I got my wings, so smile.
The sky is so beautiful and bright.
It's even better with the stars at night.
I can see it all now,
Far more than reality would allow.
The air is much better,
Now that I'm without a fetter.
It's wonderful for me,
Would you like to come and see?
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoetryI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
