Forever flying on wings of pure gold,
Just as a sparrow, or so I’ve been told,
But lame to the ground I shall forever be,
Because of this future, chosen by me,
I could have done better, I know in my heart,
And yet I still seem so close to the start.
My life is not finished hopefully not near,
Many more years I wish to spend here,
But here I am sitting,
No lights to my name, no future before me, no fortune or fame, so, why should I be here? I frequently ask, should I forget the roses and shatter the glass?
But how could this have happened? I had such high hopes, I’ve misplaced my wings and am lost on the slopes,
Of this world that seemingly pushes me through, Cold world I clearly mean little to you.
So, why should I be here?, Why should this last?
Now I sit here praying, awaiting the blast, my hand to the trigger, but not like before, this time it’s real, it’s longing, it’s more.
I reflect what I’m leaving, what shall lay behind,
But now this can’t help me,
I’ve ran out of time.
