Both My Wings Are Broken.

Pain and Heartache

I am like a Bird,

Or an angel maybe.

With large white wings,

a good foot taller than me.

They used to hold me,

way above everyone else.

Where I could watch them live,

without ever living myself.

I would soar so high,

and fly so free.

Where nothing but the wind,

could ever touch me.

But then the reasons I flew disappeared,

And I fell and fell unable to stop.

People watched from their windows,

Trying to stop my death drop.

But they only succeeded

In ripping my wings apart.

But it didn't matter,

for it matched my broken heart.

I was spiraling out of control,

but I would never hit the ground.

I would just keep on falling,

with not a scream nor a sound.

Until I finally decided,

I no longer wanted to hold on.

Nor to fly and watch these people live,

when my reasons for flying were gone.

So I plummeted faster,

an Angel to fall in the middle of town.

Until my family of Angels flew and caught me

grabbing my wings and trying to slow me down.

I didn't understand it yet,

but unexplainably I felt they wanted me to live.

Because this Angel wasn't yet done on earth.

I had so much more I needed to give.

And though I was angry and sad,

my family of Angels had spoken.

They wanted me to fly with them, but....

Both My Wings Are Broken.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is how I feel each time someone I love dearly dies.... But mostly this poem is how I felt when my Great-Aunt (cancer) and my God-Father (suicide) passed away. I felt as if I should just give up sometimes and felt hopeless.... I was spiraling downward toward self destruction and not caring who went down with me. But basically my family helped me get through it and I helped them in away. But even so, it still affects me (my wings are broken)Innocent

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