Flying
The feathers would flutter in the wind like and angels.
The wings would lift me off this Hell they call Earth.
And Bring me to the sky...
Let me glide high above the others.
I'd be beautiful.
I'd be a miracle.
My wings soft as satin
Soft as velvet.
I'd fly from coast to coast
Pole to Pole.
Nothing would stop me
not even the winds of Chicago.
Not even the missiles in the places of war.
I'd never stop
Just to get away from everyone else.
Adrenaline, oh the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
It's not from trouble
it’s from the wind furling the feathers.
I open my eyes to the nasal ring of an alarm clock.
And oh how I wish it was from the wind flowing through my fiery red hair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem