Now it's my turn,
to help you.
You held them close but
they let you go.
You held on tight and
fixed each crack.
How could I expect
you to watch,
your back?
But past is past,
none of that matters,
now it's my turn.
You say,
you don't want it,
sometimes I believe you
but I see the hope,
I see the light
that can shine so bright.
Now it's my turn
to win this fight.
Not for me,
not at all.
Just to you,
cause you deserve it all.
An angel which has fallen,
soul so black,
I know he needs saving,
I got his back.
So I'll heal him,
hand sew each stitch,
making him whole.
That is my last dying wish
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
Now it's my turn,
to help you.
You held them close but
they let you go.
You held on tight and
fixed each crack.
How could I expect
you to watch,
your back?
But past is past,
none of that matters,
now it's my turn.
You say,
you don't want it,
sometimes I believe you
but I see the hope,
I see the light
that can shine so bright.
Now it's my turn
to win this fight.
Not for me,
not at all.
Just to you,
cause you deserve it all.
An angel which has fallen,
soul so black,
I know he needs saving,
I got his back.
So I'll heal him,
hand sew each stitch,
making him whole.
That is my last dying wish
Request permission to use this poem