A
On the edge I stand teetering for an adrenaline ride with no wings to glide. Will an angel save me as I fall from grace or is it
my own demise, am I just an emotional disgrace with no right to be saved. I do not often pray yet have hope is that close to
faith?, does my soul if I have one deserve an angelic hand. I awake by a tranquil river on smooth cobbles I lay which seems
to have broke my fall and clutching a single white feather. At that waking moment my mind is settled and open to all
possibilities
my own demise, am I just an emotional disgrace with no right to be saved. I do not often pray yet have hope is that close to
faith?, does my soul if I have one deserve an angelic hand. I awake by a tranquil river on smooth cobbles I lay which seems
to have broke my fall and clutching a single white feather. At that waking moment my mind is settled and open to all
possibilities