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Nov 2018
Angels have wings.

We do too.
We have the wings we need.
We have the wings that have us fly and soar to wherever we please.

Be it soft feather or smooth membrane or a lash across the back.
It's here to keep you warm, need be.
Lift you up, need be.

Death has wings, too.
Starting a collection of picture and music inspired poems, they'll be marked by title.

The picture for this one is a young man standing in mist with a bunch of light made arrows protruding out the back of his jacket. He's in no pain whatsoever.


I would link them photos but they're usually sent to me so I don't have an address. I'll work on that though.
Written by
Boi  21/M/On a chair
(21/M/On a chair)   
328
       H-B, SMS, Fawn, ---, elle jaxsun and 3 others
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