Crippled Wings

by Aken Sol   Oct 8, 2004


Imagination is of the deceased.
Well all standing
On quick sand
Forever sinking
Forever going down
Slow and steady
Never noticing
Unaware
Never noticing
The wings on our backs
Unused and weak
too weak to use
To fly and break free
Fly freely
With sight offered
of large horizons
Break free
Before you are entombed
Fly away
and fly high

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Latest Comments

  • 20 years ago

    by DMG

    nice kracky

  • 20 years ago

    by Sean Allen

    "Well all standing" should that be "we're"? I liked this poem, but i think some of the lines were so short that your clever wordplay became lost on the reader because there weren't enough words to make the wordplay noticeable.

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