Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
Spread your wings
my pretty little dead things
and fly from your graves.

Flee the ground you're in
and let renewed life begin
as another sould idea.

You're only restrained
by half-brained
visionary tales and ideals.

So, spread your wings,
my pretty little dead things,
and learn to fly on your own.
Sal Gelles
Written by
Sal Gelles  The road
(The road)   
316
   featherfingers and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems