Trapped.killed inside.
The bird,plucked bare
Flutters its miserable little wings.
To fly into the night.
The yearning is palpable..
In the music of his heart.
It is dead now,lying hidden inside a heap of old ash.
The healthy,thriving,pathetic population survives.
Hardly mourns.
2 comments:
abstract but truly deep...for the first time your work has struck a chord and i am at a loss of words to describe it...and thats a salute to your genius...keep writing
hmmm....nice blog...
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