Swatted away by the world, I was atop an incredibly thin needle.
I was using the tips of my fingers to balance,
But it wasn’t until they touched you that I learned I wasn’t alone;
That alone bestowed upon me these crooked wings.
“What do you want to accomplish between life and death,” I asked,
But all you did was laugh, like an angel.
Weaving through the spaces of the hordes of buildings burning in the summer heat,
We’ll eventually descend, pulling that trigger at the very end.
And winter will cover everything.