Gord

2026-09-29 09:11 pm

I saw through the night,
My eyes, always on you,
Instead of the knife.

Wings, wild across the white,
Heart still filled with horror,
So, on and on - and out of sight.

Naivety, leads to fighting,
Like pencil leads to writing.
Wings, used to fly,
Like fathers are to leaving,
No need to try.