Giving up your wings to deliver my curse.
Your letting to of me.
Your letting to to
Sail to an island unknown,
Failing to find your way back home
Leagues beneath, away from me.
All those perfect days made of glass,
Put on a shelf where they can cast
Perfect shadows that stretch and grow,
On the imperfect days down below.
Hey so this is an older poem of mine but i thought i would throw it at you guys see what yall think of it. Thanks!!!
TuckEr EllsworTh
Gender:
Points: 52441
Reviews: 662