• nunoalem 5w


    The fall of leaves never had related as much,
    Until he started to fall himself.
    But oh the fall
    Which was beautiful in theory
    Was never envisioned to be disastrous.
    The promise of a soft landing
    All but a fairytale.
    He stood at the edges,
    Moans of despair and anger
    Never been more resounding.
    Slowly slipping through the cracks,
    The jagged edges of despair
    Cutting down on his will.
    Neither did he have wings,
    Nor did he learn to fly.
    And just like that,
    Another soul was lost
    To the maelstrom of life.