Carbon copies, black as coal
Crowing, as their name suggests,
The birds spend their day.
They perch in perceived perfection,
Fluttering; fidgeting in disarray,
Displeased with the world
-Seeking attention.
Proud and loud, together they screech
A couple of champion
Lunatics.
Like an old married couple
They bicker and natter.
Cold air ruffles their feathers
By the sandy grey landscape they call home.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of my Mind
PoésieThese are a collection of poems that I have written in my spare time and at University. They're in practically chronological order from 2009 - present day (except the first couple) so the most recent updates WILL be more thought-out and poetic. But...
