Only If My Words Had Wings.

If my words had wings.

It could have swayed from autumn to springs and could have carried my messages of the lonesome sights, to the clouds above where I want it to destined.

If my words had wings,

It could have carried my agony and plight, to the sky above with zephyr of the cold gloomy night.

If my words had wings,

It could have described the shattered soul of mine praying for impossible to happen with numbed eyes.

If my words had wings,

It could have told the tales of sorrow and demise and valley of death and how handcuffed was I.

If my words had wings,

It could have carried my message of the lonesome sights to the clouds above where I want it to be destined.