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Fallen Angel
October 30, 2017
The pain is excruciating.
My golden blood leaving a trail Among my limbs
White feathers turn black,
And my wings fall Getting closer,
And closer to the ground.
The frigid wind hits my face,
The rain starts to fall,
Like its following me...
I look up,
And see scolding faces
As they flew away
And didn't look back.
I saw the ground,
I didn't panic,
scream,
Or fear.
I cried,
And watched my tears fall,
And blend in with the rain.
I now feel...
*crash*
© Sarah M., Blairsville, PA
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This poem explains the meaning depression has to me.....being ripped apart and falling.