Wounded Bird.
I face my troubles defenceless,
I'm a bird without its wings.
But even though I'm featherless.
I'm a wounded bird that sings.
These metal bars prevent my flee,
But I can't see the slightest difference.
What good is being set free,
If you can't feel your own presence.
I took habit in watching them fly,
These fortunate brothers of mine.
But I am not allowed to yell or cry,
Since I'm a stone that cannot shine.
I have a shattered frame of mind
I don't know what to feel anymore.
My loneliness turned me blind,
For I cannot see what to fight for.
What makes us human,
Is actually pretty primitive.
Nothing too obvious,
And nothing definitive.
Outside this cage looms war,
Inside these bars lays a mist.
The fog grows more and more,
A fog that siezes to exist.
YOU ARE READING
Poem Nation.
PoetryPoem Nation is pretty much built by everyone who'd like to be a part of it. Each chapter will relate to someone in particular, no matter if you're mending a broken heart, in love, lonely, depressed, missing someone, losing someone, meeting someone...
