Questions From a Dead Man
Don't own.
It's not as good as my other one, but... here you go.
xXx
Why do I see the ground differently from this height?
The asphalt is not as expansive.
The people are not as impressive,
though it's not as though they ever were.
Who ever said I didn't feel?
Not me, for I am human
Simply a person upon the earth,
and a man cannot hide feelings that well.
Why are there targets on those I love?
Though love is too strong a word.
One I don't understand in the least,
for who could love a sociopath?
I wonder, what it is like to fall?
I have felt it before, falling.
Not in the literal sense, of course.
But failure is just as comparable.
I wonder if we will ever be able to fly?
Soaring, wind amongst fabrics.
Wings to hold the body up in the air.
I have not wondered this before- it is impossible.
How am I to say goodbye?
Numbing the blow is not possible,
not when words are this inexpressive.
Saying sorry feels insufficient.
Final words,
whispers from friend to friend,
tears betraying myself,
and a smashing phone.
They say I don't have a heart.
I say that the heart does not affect how we feel,
but at this moment in time,
I think it may have shattered.
I fall, for flying is not in our nature,
and I am on the ground,
and my questions will never be spoken.
For who can answer a dead man?
xXx
I do apologise for the utter... thing that is this poem. I really don't like it, but my friend insisted I upload it. I hope you like it more than I. Yet again, please review. I don't care if it's just a colon-capital_d, or a colon-slash, review.
Ta-ta (for now),
LoS :D