An implosion,
Set to destroy my benign soul,
A sign from afar,
That the eaglets want to fly,
and weaning is end,
No more pretend,
The struggle within,
Would soak me in,
And the grief beforehand,
Would tear my callous heart.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
