21.3.11

Untitled

Deceit is love, as there's a lie in us
Played out in the day as broken wings

Eyes rarely open
Such hallow pits to the soul
They close up as the weight crushes what's left of our wings

Dream of flying now
As our old form is dashed in two
Angst finds your name, smiles bruised by shame

Once feathered wings break off and turn to ash 

No comments:

Post a Comment