Headlights

Headlights

A flash, a crash
The tinkling of glass.
A pressure on my forehead
Blood on the dash.
I fight the grey
At the edge of my vision,
But succumb to the pain
Of this highspeed collision.
The darkness fades,
Turning to light.
Is this The End?
Should I fight?
I feel a prickling on my back
And my wings burst forth.
Beautiful, downy, white and pure
I face the staircase:
Now I am sure.
I ascended,
My arms extended
Prepared to go home.
I cross the threshold.
All goes dark.
I give a shout
No sound comes out.



I wake in the passenger seat
Being alive has never felt so sweet.
I tell my father I love him, he asks me if Im alright
As his face is bleached by the approaching headlights.