As I sit here all alone, along the edge of the bridge, my legs dangling in the air.
A storm brewing inside my head, tell me, how is this fair?
The tension in the air so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
As I ponder over the ill-fortune, that is my life.
Whit no regards for me, the air brings with it the toxic smoke.
Mockingly, reminding me of life's ruthless, resilient choke.
If they had known that their words would go to my head,
I wonder what they would have said instead.
What's meaningless to them held up in their ivory towers,
As I stand on this bridge, has left me damaged like withering flowers.
YOU ARE READING
The One Where She Gets Her Wings
Ficção AdolescenteThis book is nothing but a love story. It is a story containing a girl's tales; ugly and beautiful. A story about her journey of finding herself. It is the ultimate love story. The story of learning to love yourself. This book is but a mere reflecti...
