Angels

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Two angels on the edge of the world.
One am I. One is dead.

One angel on the edge of the world.




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I don't think there is enough detail in this to be a poem. Plus, it needs more words. I would scarp it. Sorry.
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Whoa. Um, was that short or was that short?

I would suggest lengthening it, or starting from scratch with the same...theme...I guess.

I love poems about Angels, especially pretty ones, so edit this, maybe, and repost it. Or try again! :D


Grandiosely,

Lily
"Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings."
~Anonymous

Nulla dies sine linea. --Not a day without a line




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Two angels on the edge of the world.

One I am. One is dead.

One angel on the edge of the world.


I like the meaning.
But, it's wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
too short.

Expand upon it.
Have fun with it.
Explore your writerexuality.
And, yes, I just made that word up.
"Don't worry about my sanity, dear. After all, it's pointless to worry about something that's nonexistent."

-Nolan Logan



In the winter months, gale storms in Svalbard can reach wind speeds of 130 km/h. Accompanied by or following snowfall, such storms can reduce visibility dramatically, more so in the winter months of the polar night. During these storms, travel is not advised.
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