Sitting on the edge,
of the lone window still,
breathing in the scent of escape
from being suffocated
by the staleness of life.
I wish to fly
but i remember i haven't hath wings
Afraid to fall,
I clasp on to my relations,
Desperate,
to find meaning.
I shut the gate,
and locked the grill.
Gazing through the still,
I abandoned the forever welcoming,
lone window still.
YOU ARE READING
The lone window
PoesíaPoetry, possibly. . Feelings seem to come out in words, words can cut and scar, scars can help to make one become better. It is either you climb up or you fall. I chose to fall.
