She flew on alabaster wings
Every single day in Spring
On clearer days when she passed by
You could even hear her sing
It only makes me wonder why
Such free spirit had to die
What a tragedy to see
The girl with wings no longer fly
By jealous hands in fits of greed
They caused the wings to tear and bleed
Oh that we could do such things
To cage that which had once been free
Today the bells of loss we ring
For them, the girl and for her wings
View User's Journal
Place of Poetry
This is where I post poems that I make when I'm feeling bored that you could really care less about. Enjoy! Or not! Or whatever!
"The world is not beautiful, therefore it is."