You don't care of your plumage.
You have owl wings
Falcon wings
Heaven forbid
Pigeon arms.
Your wings limp
They droop
They drag on the sand
And dirty the tips
It adds more meaning than it should.
You know you can't fly
You don't realize we can't either
And I wonder if you remember
How I offered to wash them.
How I complimented the patterns
The seams
I didn't know what they meant
I didn't ask
You didn't tell
And I ignored my own.
I wonder if now
If now you care
If now you wash them
What the splotches I left
What they mean to you.
I wonder if you know yet
No matter how hard we try
Humans can't fly
That our wings are purely decoration.
You were always devoted to your ideas.
I wonder if why
If we can't fly
How did I soar away?
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So uh most of my poems will be this way, to be honest. Going off track and referencing to wings.
It's a belief of mine that we all have wings. These wings carry splotches, patterns and scars on the feathers. These blemishes are our memories. They don't ever have a universal meaning, so example a brown splotch could mean something different for different people. We can't always see these blemishes for one reason or another.
Also this wasn't edited most aren't.
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Tracing Paper || A Collection Of Poems
PoetryI held broken shards to my face Comparing my reflection On the mirrors That didn't want to leave ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Poems written by Star in about 5 minutes. If you like them, please do vote and comment, it really makes my day! Most...
