From my poetry collection ORION


My wings are not made for kings.
They are for ordinary people that hear the steeple
and are afraid to look at the sky.
These kind of wings,make the owner shy.

My wings give me the power to do things.
Cover the homeless,encourage the hopeless.
But to me they give me nothing but
countless and endless things to think.

Why they are so poor and so rich?
Which is the bad and the good which?
Why animals are so alone,like God has gone
and why everything ends with a tearful bye?

My wings only responsibility bring.
If only i could be somebody new,
I would have chosen the one i knew
wouldn't have a thing to do,although so alone and blue.

Poetry by AFRODITE STATHI The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-11-30 at 04:05

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