Delicate little bones.
Freedom for the bird,
A chamber for me.
Bird bones in my arms,
My legs, my ribs, my fingers.
Fragile and delicate,
One touch and I'm shattered into pieces.
Inside this bird bone body,
A bird bone cage,
For my bird bone heart.
-JRR
YOU ARE READING
Dying Song (poetry)
Puisijust some stuff I made. !TW! Contains vague talk of SH, suicide, ED and general mental illness. -JRR
