Friday, August 26, 2005

Little wing

When I'm sad, she comes to me, with a thousand smiles, she gives me free. - Little Wing

Feeling too heartsick to fight back,
I abandoned all hopes in me,
To reach or even relive,
That tiny spark people call happiness.

I wallow and I spit,
I think back and I curse,
Of what huge promises,
This tiny spark once made.

Self-pity held me close,
And made me prisoner in her towers;
Punishing me unmercifully with the death verses,
Composed to the sullen symphony - the guards whistle.

A little consolation from little wing,
Which keeps on playing,
In my not-so-straight head.
And I silently wish - for Her coming.


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