It ticks backwards,
That broken clock.
Must I fix it?
There is an eagle on a flag;
It cannot fly;
Stuck on to inspire.
I asked her why
She should drain them from hope,
But she just gazed at me.
There is wind on the flag,
That could carry the bird away,
But it holds on.
And when it was midnight,
I cried.
I needed answers.
There was fire on the flag;
But it only burned what was colorless
And the bird was white.
Years passed by,
And I became old,
Yet it remained midnight.
The flag was left alone,
The rain has put it off,
But the bird was gone.
It searched for meaning,
Came right on my shoulder,
And waited along.
It ticks just fine,
That broken heart,
Must I fix me?
YOU ARE READING
Of Agony And Hope
PoesíaA random collection of poetry, each telling a story that only happens between the time you start reading, and the time you've stopped...
