deepundergroundpoetry.com
The call of the sun
The sun has called for my return,yet I cry spreading my wings
there flightless,fore i am grounded going blind into the distance along
hollow and soiled wonders for my high has a beckoning call
unto the colored sound,addressing that I may not return as if
twice the cumbersome twice the fire shunned me ,as if the sun shall
not reach for me withering in the cold ,mending my wounds in from the rain as
I needed too yell to the sun that my wings are drowning and I can not help
too be scared,yet as I go blind I fend the difference among empty
happiness and beautiful sorrow ,screaming sun please dry up the rain as I plead,
bargaining for my return,you call ,I listen ,still my flight recides long into
a funeral for my diesease I earned as my eyes has weaken upon listless
breaths fueling my burnt sense of direction for home,I am
stranded in a old charm of confession as the sun has called for my return
there flightless,fore i am grounded going blind into the distance along
hollow and soiled wonders for my high has a beckoning call
unto the colored sound,addressing that I may not return as if
twice the cumbersome twice the fire shunned me ,as if the sun shall
not reach for me withering in the cold ,mending my wounds in from the rain as
I needed too yell to the sun that my wings are drowning and I can not help
too be scared,yet as I go blind I fend the difference among empty
happiness and beautiful sorrow ,screaming sun please dry up the rain as I plead,
bargaining for my return,you call ,I listen ,still my flight recides long into
a funeral for my diesease I earned as my eyes has weaken upon listless
breaths fueling my burnt sense of direction for home,I am
stranded in a old charm of confession as the sun has called for my return
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