(no subject)
black rain drops
are tearing through my paper wings.
the mush that once carried me to heaven
has fallen to the ground.
maybe it was the tears that washed it all away.
sitting on your roof top,
dreaming of what used to be.
i've fallen from the sky.
my wings will no longer fly me home.
all i have left is memories:
haunting images of torn faces,
bleed from every pore,
bruised and broken fingers
reaching out
trying to grasp onto me
trying to grasp onto you.
circles and lines,
drawn in the dirt
of happy faces that once were,
are all that's left
of you and i.
the rain will wash that away too.
the tears will wash that away.
somedays i wish i were a real poet.
maybe if i could write something that meant something to anyone else, but me.
are tearing through my paper wings.
the mush that once carried me to heaven
has fallen to the ground.
maybe it was the tears that washed it all away.
sitting on your roof top,
dreaming of what used to be.
i've fallen from the sky.
my wings will no longer fly me home.
all i have left is memories:
haunting images of torn faces,
bleed from every pore,
bruised and broken fingers
reaching out
trying to grasp onto me
trying to grasp onto you.
circles and lines,
drawn in the dirt
of happy faces that once were,
are all that's left
of you and i.
the rain will wash that away too.
the tears will wash that away.
somedays i wish i were a real poet.
maybe if i could write something that meant something to anyone else, but me.