Angel By Krystle Schilling
She lets out a sigh.
She closes her eyes,
And wonders "why?"
Her delicate hands,
Cover her face.
She sits alone,
And stares into space.
She wears a beautiful gown,
That is light and fair.
In curls down her back,
Lays her soft, blonde hair.
Her fragile wings,
That once soared high,
Have become ragged and torn,
As time goes by.
She tries to get up,
But her legs are too weak.
She tries to fit in,
But they called her a freak.
She can't cope anymore,
She wants to be free.
She dreams of places,
Where she'd rather be.
She can remember a time,
When things were great.
Can she change things back,
Or has she left it too late?