Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches the soul
Sings the tune without words
And never stops-at all
It matters not how to strait the gate
Nor how to charge with punishments the scrolls..
I am the master of my fate
And the captain of my soul..
Between my two fingers and my two thumbs
My world is brighter than the dark..
Nor it isn't perfect but for me it does.
I would never give up my world to anything like jewelry..
As long as it does not judge me for me..
Even asleep we partake into the becoming of the world
In our dreams...
As we become angels like we always dreamed of..
And as angels become sinners like they always didn't want to do...
And as we go back in reality like we always do
We always say the world isn't fair, nor perfect.
Just like heavens are too....
IRLN: Irish cilene