Cry, cry little bird. Tell me what's wrong
your mother had her neck broken singing a song?
Did they rid you of your little legs to carry you away
alone from the night, seeking rest by day?
Perhaps they took her feathers for their colourful sheen,
or maybe her eyes to compensate for the horrors they've seen?
Never tell me a word, little bird, cause I know what it's like to be
surrounded by a million birdies, blind as one can see
YOU ARE READING
sugar glazed.
Poetrya collection of short and long poems that entail hopefully a real perspective on life, love and relationships with others. please read with caution, some themes are heavy so read away, darlings, or don't, after all, ignorance is bliss.
