Warm-less wings carry silver body past:


Past the jaundice moon,

overlooking girls with broken smiles

and hunched boys of solitude.


Past the white lines of roads,

which feel the steps of lost souls

wandering aimlessly among the living.


Past the mountains backlit contours

solemnly barricading the rest of the world

from reaching seclusion.


Past the towering buildings

whom symbolize so much more

than just their shadows against

greasy pavement.


Past weeping trees

curled over dying roots

choked by the sorrow

building in the air.


Past music pouring from open windows

twining into cacophony

that burns into the mind.


Past sleeping forms

crouched in doorframes

silent suffers emanating

from down-turned faces.


Past the droplets of rain

which cascade from grey clouds,

wetting dark feathers

and weighing me down.


Past the cities limits

into the fear of the unknown

where the bent angel-wings

can hold no longer.


Past no more,

only a disheveled figure

tear-streaked cheeks

and crooked wings.


A girl to be forgotten

as the rest of the world

passes by.


5 thoughts on “Past

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