Flying home is hard
when your wings are torn
the fire left everything charred
and your clothes are tattered from being worn
Flying home was your final hope
but this war is still not won
you are still hanging on a rope
awaiting the return of the sun
Flying home was your only wish
but all you got was destruction
when your dreams were shattered on a glass dish
now all you want is your sweet resurrection
Flying home has blinded you
all you wanted was to be whole
but if you only knew
you always had a beautiful soul
YOU ARE READING
Random things I write
PoetryThese are just some poems I write when stuff happens. Please no hate.