Every night I look down on their houses as they turn out their lights, and wish that my wings had never been clipped. Sometimes I even wish that he had just let me fall, like the others. Instead of this hiding and clinging to stars.
I am so close to the sky. Sometimes I think that if I could just remember exactly how it was to soar through it, I would be able to again, and I could soar up, up all the way to heaven and then maybe he would…
Maybe he would strike me down,
Maybe clip my wings again.
Maybe he would just destroy me and have done with it.
Perhaps that would be better. To have it over and done with. But, where do angels go when they die?
I cling to my star.
A Bolg? 
circlesunderstreetlights
/ October 26, 2012Oh, this is so sad! Well written!
W. R. Woolf
/ October 26, 2012Thank you!
I hope you enjoy the rest of my blog too 🙂
circlesunderstreetlights
/ October 27, 2012Thanks – looking forward to having a nosey round!