Growing Wings

Four long days of hours collected in my body, no sleep had came just images that were not even memories. I believe that I was meant to break and the world is here to only decay.

I cannot relax and I cannot leave this room of four walls with two windows. On the outside of an unlock door, no one needs to know the knowledge of the other's life, for the meaning of life to them might not mean a thing to you.

For there is no new way of growing wings, when you wish to fly, except going through the pain of releasing your actions.

Reviews

[Bennett Logan]

I do like a good prose poem. Prose poetry can express just as much or even more than line poetry, and it doesn't even look like a poem. I think that's exactly what you accomplished here. Your imagery is good and your descriptions are extremely visual. My only suggestions would be to keep an eye open for verb-tense agreement and to add more descriptions to illustrate the scene surrounding the unlocked door. Just a couple ideas. Have a good one, and definitely keep up the good work!