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Monday, August 29, 2005

I was once a guardian angel...
but now my wings are crippled and i can never fly for a very long time.

Whispering wind has gone by and not a single gust have been spared for me.
Will i ever have a gust of wind to call my own?
A gust that will always be there beneath my wings lifting me up when i fall...
bringing me high above the clouds when the storm is raging down below?

the sacred sun shines.
it's rays scorching my skin, wrinkling my wings (or whats left of it) blinding my eyes
instead of giving me hope and guidance that i seek and yearn for.
i bleed in your presence.
Spare me oh sacred sun
For i have yet to recover from my great fall.

i am superman ;
8/29/2005 04:53:00 PM