Bloody feathers
>> Πέμπτη 22 Οκτωβρίου 2009
All my feathers turned to pens,
pens that dont simple write but,
pens which engrave keenly like only does time
nothing is left of my wings...
nothing is left to remind what they used to be...
no wind cant take them high
not even the wind o change can help them hold me from falling
all is left is just a mere shadow,
a memory of the past that haunts the present
and whatever is left are wounds and scars,
The blood that flow from them is going to waste...
No.! I am wrong...
Finally, i can use my pens and write something...
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