I Will Pretend

And I fell through the sky
With the wings of an angel.
No one can touch me;
That option is fatal.

There is no present
To the past's intermission,
For no one can slouch
Below one's vision.

He told me once,
Or maybe I was deaf,
That no one suffers
From the immortal theft.

Perhaps the stars
That shine in the sky
Are nothing more than
My burning wings' cry.