Was life so unyielding
for you to fall from your office building?
Did you cry or did you sing,
angel with a broken wing?
What caused you to take that final fatal flight,
like a wayward broken and tattered kite,
storm-tossed with no steady string,
o angel with a broken wing?
What lies pounded inside your head,
that hounded you, said you’d be better off dead?
This life is such a fragile thing,
dear angel with a broken wing.
I know you only by what the newspaper said,
a few lines on the page that I read.
I wish I could have done something,
bright angel with a broken wing.
Though it is too late for you,
there are so many who wish to fly too.
I can only hope these simple words will bring
hope to other angels with broken wings.
For you see, my Icarus of shattered dreams,
this world is not as lonely as it seems.
It is a strange and beautiful thing,
but every one of us is an angel with a broken wing.