I'm crumpling like a trash
Full of sort ofs and ifs
I'll be an angel, surely not yours
I'm flying without wings
But with pain as it is
Hovering through the tinted clouds,
The air whistled in my ears,
I can't do it high,I'm afraid I might
Made of paper, do I?
Lost around and carried by
All above the heaven and sky
I turn the way down,
To you my holy ground.
YOU ARE READING
Her Thoughts to Words
PoetryDramatically nonsense verses, I can't say out loud. A/N: Mostly written on my late hs and early college years so some are quite vague and misconstructed but I love them so I'll be publishing them at random times.
