birds
My worst is in words,
Tethered like balloons,
Resting on my tongue,
They are lifeless, fickle metal birds.
They twitch their light wings,
Trying hatefully
To be what they aren’t,
Silly little mechanical things
With paper feathers
And metallic chirps
And hollow silver
Joints bound together with rough leather.
They are fragile toys
That understand not
Why I tie them down:
For such small birds, they make too much noise.
YOU ARE READING
Written in Math Class
PoetryPoetry is nice because I get to dedicate myself completely and totally to writing, and I only have to do it for half an hour. Disclaimer: some of these are about boys.
