Broken Wings

Can't handle the hate anymore

Really can't stand up to fight it

Don't know any more cheery songs

I really just can't stand it

 

I'm lost in time, and pretty much alone

Just the moonlit nights to accompany me

And the only mansion where I reside

Is a sick, old, sorrowful tree

 

Grey's now my favourite colour

Other hues, my eyes don't perceive

And now I taste just bitter things

From my life, I just want them all to leave

 

My soul is pretty much dead

My heart no longer sings

And all I can do is limp, and cry

This tale of my broken wings

Author's Note

After a full day of watching nothing but youtube as a form of entertainment, this was the only product of the mixed feelings. :)

Reviews

[Hey Hey Renee]

The idea in itself is wonderful, but I think you could use a wider vocabulary to elaborate on the situation. Other than that, this is great.

[Danielle]

A very nice piece of writing!