The biggest wings I've seen,
Lay comatose on your shoulders,
Held down by the weight.
The weight of your own body
Causing it's own fatality.

They yearn to stretch
And fly and play,
But you have to pay.
You've got nothing left to give,
And all we wish
Is for you to live.
Who knew half an inch
Could do this damage?
Emotional famine,
I cannot cry.
I haven't figured out why.
All I can do is try
To not let it get to me,
You see,
I love you with all my heart.
All I want is your wings to stretch
And fly
I still have yet to figure out why.
Why you?

People message me and say
"Your poetry is oh so sad."
Well, until something new
Comes along to write about,
I'll continue to write like this
As I sit and S̶c̶r̶e̶a̶m̶.  I mean, quietly whisper
My poetry into paper.

I'm not a good person,
It's not too hard to see.
It's pouring from my sweatglands
And lingering in my sleep.

I'm not a good person,
It's pretty obvious to see.
Cause everthing you tell me,
I seem to believe.