There are wings on my back.
An alluring silver faded to black.
Able to take me to the greatest heights.
Willing to go on the longest of flights.
These wings are the image of my soul
When I've lost myself in despair they dull.
When I'm alone with my though, they yearn to fly.
There's only one thing that I wonder why.
Why can't anyone see these wings?
They're such beautiful things.
No one believes me
They call me crazy
Maybe I'm crazy
My vision's getting hazy
I can no longer see
Those things behind me
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Poems
PoesiaThis is a poetry book made from people who request to put their own poems in here to any poem I find online. It is made for people to share and express their thoughts and emotions. *NONE OF THESE POEMS BELONG TO ME* (REQUESTS ARE CLOSE)
