I start to day dream,
I suddenly spurt out wings.
My heart gets so jovial,
With all these little things.
When I am independent,
When I'm not controlled by strings.
When I can take care of myself,
What great pleasure it brings.
When I read a cheerful book,
Friendship, love and rings.
Or warriors, princes and princesses,
Gaurds, queens, and Kings.
Escaping the world,
Taking flight on my wings.
It is after all this,
That my little heart sings.
~!~Ana
YOU ARE READING
A Poem Is Worth A Story
PoetryDo you think something's not real, A legend , a superstition. Did you ever want an answer, A reason, an explanation. Stories could be fake, People could too, But it's not in our hands, To define who's who. Like how a picture is worth a thousand word...
