Wings4ever

People ask me who I am or how would you react if you were in a jam? They try to put people into simple words to try to put people into separate herds. The problem is that no matter what I say who I am will never be on display. All I can give is snapshots of me and hope you see who I’m tryin’ to be. You will never be able to see the whole picture because you will always be looking through the fissures that are between each and every depiction, barred forever by a restriction. You can’t just see into my mind because you would never comprehend how it was designed. There are differences between you and me, differences that anyon

A lonely song, sung in the deep.    A lowly voice that continues to weep. It tells you if you want, its heart’s yours to keep    If you’re just willing to take that leap. Every year is an effort struck anew,    but every year leads to it feeling blue. All the people move on without a clue    of what this one voice is going through. This lonely song falls on deaf ears    and with every refusal comes more tears. It pleads and pleads with its peers    for them to calm all of its fears. All it wants is someone to call dear     so it will keep trying every year. This lowly voice ever adheres    to singing the *music of the s

[The little one is locked up alone,     desperately yearning for a home. Trapped inside the darkest night     the little one cries out with all its might. Nobody even seems to hear     as the little one begins to give in to fear. It hides inside the blessed dark,     for now its soul is just as stark. It held in all its tears     throughout all those trying years. Now it feels its story is done,     that is, if there ever was one.] The little ones story ended before it truly began,     but what would have happened if the little one ran? If it ran to escape the pain and fear,     ran to a place where it would hear no jeer? If it ran to

As you watch the procession      a sliver of knowledge comes into your possession. Suddenly every piece of the puzzle falls into place      and you feel cheated by the unfair race. The one you protected, the one you care for      will not need you anymore. There is a growing anticipation      as you watch the figure in white holding the carnation. You withhold your tears and cries      and the feelings of loss inside. As you watch your child lie down to rest for the last time     you hear dull, clanging church bells chime. And when the dust has settled you finally release your emotions     and scream at the god that set everything int

Your eyes seem to have lost their shine;     it wasn’t long ago that I had called you mine. The freedoms we used to share     are replace by emptiness everywhere. Now I stand here destitute,     exactly where you used to stand resolute. Now I stand here devastated,     exactly where you used to be so dedicated. Now I stand here drowning in my woes,     exactly here you used to defeat your foes. Your eyes, oh your eyes,     they never ever seemed to tell a lie. We used look to the sky     and dream of being able to fly. But bye-bye, oh bye-bye,     I had hoped to never see you die. Now I stand here destitute,     exactly wher

A man lies on the ground stuck in the mud. He lies there and prays to be found, but as he waits he sees no one around, so he continues to lie there, in a pool of his own blood. Low and behold, he hears a sound, it came from one of the bodies inside the mound. He calls out in greeting, but receives no reply. All that he hears is his heart slowly beating and so he knows it his time to die. A shadow looms over this desolate land as one man stumbles looking for his men. He tries to give the dying a helping hand as he whispers each a quiet “amen.” This man was sent to fight a war he did not believe in forced to follow and go through

A lost, wandering soul,     forgotten by most, is stuck inside too many roles;     far more than any can hope to boast. A gentle heart, left broken by the land,     wishing for a single hope of receiving a helping hand. It reaches out to those who cry     Then it runs to its field of rye, a place of peace,     this is where it waits for the pain to cease. Then after it had its time to mend     it goes out and continues the cycle that has no end.

The little one is locked up alone,     desperately yearning for a home. Trapped inside the darkest night,     the little one cries out with all its might. Nobody even seems to hear     as the little one begins to give in to its fear. It hides inside the blessed dark,     for now its soul is just as stark. It held in all its tears     through out all those trying years. Now it feels its story is done,     that is, if there ever was one.