The atmosphere loss itself in closure,
lost in the cracked shadows it bleeds.
The eyes open and the soul is lost.
Looking to the eyes of
an angel the soul continues.

The atmosphere passes and the
soul stands still.
The wings stand and the
atmosphere walks by, it's wings
high.

Statues carve themselves
trying hard not to bleed,
but to breath it's contents.

The atmosphere grows heavy
and the soul losses itself
even more.
Breath is shallow,
forgotten inhales.

The souls brain stops,
then after a while,
it continues.

It moves.
In it the lost amount
of feelings.
Trying to catch
everything.

*just so u peps know i wrote this poem, it was not stolen from anyone at
school, the title is just that, because i didn't know what to call it.*
 
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