Wings Spread Out Past The Ends Of Time Poem by Michael Webb

The suffering is always there
I can feel the presence
It's too much to bare
Too much to question
Blankest stares
From eyes just as dead as
The eyes that stare
At my reflection
Climbing stairs
With no direction
Steps like time
Counting the seconds
Who cares
What hole we rest in
As long as its deeper than
The pit of dispair
I hope death tastes sweeter
Than the bitterness
Of a breath of air
Apples falling to earth
With deep wormholes
They slowly swerm
As we slowly go in cirlcles
To hopefully earn
A large purse full
Of paper slices
That they stole
Just like the breath inside
Trees that were pulled
From the very roots that gave them life
Standing on hot coals
Burns but not quite
As much as the souls
Of your feet walking through life
Youth becoming old
Way before their time
No story told
Of mountains climbed
In a city dull
A street performer ties
An invisible rope
Around your neck
Until no words can be spoke
He's just a mime
And I'm just a ghost
Absent and drifting
Forever alone
Sadly reminiscing
About the bones
Of dead memories
Buried treasure
With no value to you
But they are the only riches that I own
God I know you're there
I can hear you in my heart
As it tries not to tear
Thank you for creating life
For us all to share
Thank you for the light
To shine our paths clear
But what is a life
In a place full of fear
A prison cell
A missing piece
That slowly fell
And got stuck between
Heaven and hell
An angel with wings
Will always prevail
And fly to the kingdom
In the sky where we tell
Stories without ink for they are
Forever kept in ourselves