To be around,
To see the sound,
Of loves young dream,
Those people scream,
The people die,
They try to fly,
Their wings will ne’er again be seen,
They want to love,
Like you and I,
But like I said,
They all will die,
Just like the summer dies gone by,
The people see,
But when they do,
It feels so great,
The loving brings,
Relief from hate,
And now at last,
Their wings will fly,
To take them up into the sky,
The pain of life,
Is not to die,
But to forget,
We all may fly.
 Scilenced by a Death · Wed Jan 30, 2008 @ 02:55am · 0 Comments |
