Sanguinely its feathers shine,
With an iridescent gleam.
Creatures with more allure exist,
But are poisoned by the same dream.
A glitter dances in its eyes,
But it's hard to tell them apart.
From all the ones before them,
That followed a similar heart.
Passerines of colours and sizes,
Pave the way for birds of prey.
As no beak escapes the hand that feeds,
And urges them to stay.
Deep inside from flesh and lies,
The lowly maggots thrive.
They oppress the starling into submission,
And won't let its dream survive.
Red around the eye, it's seen,
With feathers like an old page.
Recent skulls are strewn all over the floor,
On the bottom of the cage.
Is a starling not a bird,
That is meant to fill the sky?
But without its health and glistening feathers,
Why would a starlingfly?
YOU ARE READING
Fools & Vipers - A collection of poems
PuisiIt wraps around my body well, But between the seams of my dress, Would fit a thousand embroideries, But no longer would it match. My first anthology. This is a small bundle of ten poems about birds and flowers, thoughts and feelings, hedgehogs...
