Stick at the Start

Stick at the start

Look a lot of pit around.
Listen an echo of evil sound.
The high wall like a giant's arms.
How I can climb?
How I can fly?

My wings are broken.
My legs are weak.
My eyes are short.
Neither can see future nor past
Not ask to my sickly heart.

Oh! a gravity of some pit again dragging me.
I can't even crawl to flee.
Bye bye sun I am sorry.

I belong to darkness realm
Merely stay in dream
And this poem translated from my scream.

Author Notes: .

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