I got home.
And I cried.
Just like that.
I tried fucking killing myself and it didn't work. Some people say thankfully it didn't work, but for me I just want to go because I don't belong here. Not everything for everyone. Like some people say everyone is supposed to be Christian, everyone is supposed to like the same things, but that's not how it works. Christianity is not for everyone. Just like school is not for everyone, reading's not for everyone, writing is not for everyone, talking is not for everyone, walking is not for everyone, but if all that's for you, great. But it's not all for me just like I don't belong here. Angels don't belong where they can get scars.
They're fragile, and sensitive, kind, and compassionate. They just want to go home.
Will you please let me go home?
YOU ARE READING
Broken Wings
Poetry'For someone so small you're pretty strong. For someone so brave you're pretty shy. For someone so observant you're pretty abnormal.' For someone like me it's pretty hard to decide who I wanna be or where I want to fit in. So this isn't exactly poet...
