Wandering Angel
I’ve lost the voice ‘twas in my head.
I’ve lost my voice, but I’m not mad.
If I’d only listened to my mother.
Would I be a whole other man today?
Could never tell the truth from fiction.
Trusting, young, the ball, the lie.
I’ve made it through the things I was scared of.
Could it be I’m much bigger than they say?
I’ll never tell our little secret.
They’ll never know our heart’s worth gold.
Our tears will drown slowly, but forever.
As their faces grow longer day by day.
Now we must end our own starvation.
Our truth is strong, we’ll carry on.
With the luck on now knowing what is coming.
We’ll be alright, now lets say goodbye.
You’re worth more than I could ever spend.
Find your way out of my mind.
Your heart’s alive, completely blind.
My inside,
dark as your eyes.
Mournful grin.
Joy passed us by.
And I’ll miss her.

Wandering Angel
By Vincent Van Zandvoort | Poetry / Prose | 24 Apr 2021
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Vincent Van Zandvoort
Vincent Van Zandvoort is a writer of poetry, prose & short fiction. Science fiction - fantasy - supernatural - thriller - drama. ©️ Copyright 2020-2023. Vincent van Zandvoort. All Rights Reserved.

Poetry / Prose
I compose poetry and prose about the disappointments of life; dishonest people we come across; crushed hopes and expectations; the corruption that lies within everyone, but also lighter stuff.

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