I am the bitten.
I am the fallen.
Once I was bludgeoned,
And left, and forgotten.
And then I flew,
Flew so high before I fell.
From the high heavens,
To the depths of hell.
Then came a hand, so soft and gentle
With an eye in its palm.
Bearing witness of my struggle,
Through every storm and every calm.
The hand gave me wings,
And threw flames to burn them off.
As I fell and fell,
Further and deeper to the voids of hell.
And so is the story of the falling man,
In the company of a lover's hand.
But he knows it will be grand,
When come the time to rise again.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
I am the bitten.
I am the fallen.
Once I was bludgeoned,
And left, and forgotten.
And then I flew,
Flew so high before I fell.
From the high heavens,
To the depths of hell.
Then came a hand, so soft and gentle
With an eye in its palm.
Bearing witness of my struggle,
Through every storm and every calm.
The hand gave me wings,
And threw flames to burn them off.
As I fell and fell,
Further and deeper to the voids of hell.
And so is the story of the falling man,
In the company of a lover's hand.
But he knows it will be grand,
When come the time to rise again.
Nothing beats pouring your overthinking head on to a piece of paper at 4 a.m
