In the ever-massed skies,
I see a small yet vibrant thing.
It soars and floats in the wind,
With no care yet great fear.
It doesn't fly to the clouds,
Not to the moon, not to the sun.
If it wants to be something great,
Why won't it go higher?
It seems so transparent,
So delicate, so fraile.
But the sun doesn't burn right through it,
And its tiny, innocent self.
I almost missed it land,
I would've thought it dropped dead.
Or even gain some amount of strength,
To fly at a greater rate.
I wanna grasp it,
And see why I'm so attached.
To its colorful wings,
That seem to form rainbows.
Maybe they aren't real,
Maybe it's only an illusion.
But watching it made me realize,
That I'm not alive.
This is my first non-rhyme poem. Hope you enjoyed it. >.<
Every time my poems didn't rhyme, my teacher would yell at me and say I was doing it wrong. D:
Teach me, because this one is good, albeit tamer than others you've posted. :lol:
Since when did poems have to rhyme?
I guess she just doesn't like the way it sounds?
All I know is that poems have to be rhythmic. They have a certain flow.
It's like; you're not going to make a happy poem sound bland
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