Nothing caught me but an old bird mocking me.
There was a lot of words he spoke.
Telling me in mean ways.
Letting me kill myself slowly.
He was right, realizing me in a tear.
Leading me to the hardest and hurted path.
Scratching the smile of mine.
Bleeding as beautiful waterfall.
Then, nothing caught me but a loud bang ringing me.
High noted unharmonized song was it.
Waking me up to look back.
Nothing happened to me, but the bird.
The bird was laying on the pavement.
With the broken tears running.
Red blood was the hardest to stop.
Bringing me back, forgiving, the mean bird.
Forgiving the mocking bird.
Because, i was traveled back.
Because, I was called by the broken bird.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Star
PoesiaThis is the symbolism of life, love, and hurt. When brain can't tell anything, the words will be the right way. The poem will be the teacher, and you will be the seeker.
