This swing on the old abandoned playground has been forgotten by some,
But I have been eying the crevices of weeds and overgrown grass,
Moss looming over decaying trees,
Looking for somewhere decent to sit,
This place reeks of years lost to loneliness and destruction,
The swing, rusty and worn out, squeaks of death,
The sound is chilling, resonating down my spine,
I close my eyes; envision a place where there is life,
Not just parasites and leeches roaming wild,
Spoiling and devouring once cherished memories,
Instead I focus on swinging,
Hair blowing on my face, wind whistling in my ears,
I can just about feel myself jump out of my seat,
Brave myself, take a leap, let my soul run free,
With butterflies in my stomach, my heart off beat,
I fly away with my angel wings,
Leave this barren land, join the birds, the angels in the sky,
Into the blue looking down on what I once had,
What I no longer desire,
What I wish would disappear,
I come to a halt, startled by my feet scraping the ground,
I open my eyes; realize I'm still sitting on the swing,
Knowing it was just a dream,
A crazy fantasy of mine.