As I fly with wings of glass
I know that I am soon to crash
Stained with blood and filled with pane
Feels like my heart will blow from strain
And here my wings have both been shattered
And the dreams I weave are torn and tattered
Countless failures now a hill of sand
And no ones there to lend a hand
As I gather the feathers I must collect
I think of the others as I reflect
Some feathers are lead and cannot fly
Some wings are strong but do not try
Some wings are leather and hide from sight
Some reach the aether where they shine bright
Many are made of insect scale
And theses short lived but rarely fail
As I think I look towards the sky
Knowing some day I soon will fly
Author notes
i wrote this poem while suffering from insomnia
What did you think
Comments
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I like the way you used the image of wings to describe the different way people can approach life.Montey
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