Broken Wings - a poetry collection

when

when does this living thing make sense?
when does the dying thing end all fire
hiding inside
regardless of your belief
maybe it's your soul,
crying for release?
when is there peace?
because not even in death's embrace
is one truly free
i'm insecure
overwhelmed
and ever so good at isolating
i'll push you away
if you give me the time too
i've never had a true friend
and if i did it always had an end
so when does this make sense?
or when does it
end