typing out my soul | poetry book

Broken Wings

Broken dreams,

Broken heart.

The pain of my body

Being torn apart.


They say I'm an angel,

So I guess my wings were clipped,

Because I can no longer fly,

My high spirits have slipped.


The shattered pieces

Of my hurting soul.

When I feel the burn,

My blood runs cold.


All the irony,

The jokes made of lies.

The way I want

To cut off all ties.


Cut off all loose ends,

Make sure no threads sew

Again, in and out,

Into my soul.


Then I'll fly,

And my broken wings will fail.

I plunge headfirst into the ground,

A sea of blood for all to sail.