waiting for the light to change;
or waiting for the skies to rain.
oh, it’s all the same.
holding onto every shred,
of memories which have hastily fled.
caught in the wind,
they were torn away,
and you’re left wondering
what kind of game they’re playing.
how many times have you been told?
to be strong
and just move on?
it’s difficult, I know,
but don’t loose faith.
the journey will uncover
love and hate.
your wings are battered
and they smell of dust.
but they’re functional just as well;
they haven’t yet rust.
this may sound odd,
or incredibly cliché.
but all you must do
is spread your wings
and fly away.
wings
- March 18, 2010
- indiechick91
- No Comments
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