I hate my face,
I break the mirror.
I’m a disgrace,
and death creeps nearer.
I’m a loser,
My life is bitter.
My tomb appears closer,
It’s covered in litter.
I’m hated by the world,
I have a lonely fate.
So in a ball I’m curled,
Scarred by hate.
No one to hold,
No one to love.
My body grows cold,
Free, my spirit flies like a dove.
I see two gates,
Heaven and hell.
Through heavens open gates,
But I tripped and fell.
Broken are these wings,
Farther, I’m falling.
Never to walk in the land of kings,
No one hears me calling.
Cory Calder
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forsaken-8/
