Little Bird

I was the bird that could not sing

The bird who had wings, covered in dirt

But I loved my tune,

I loved my wings.

So I sang, and I flew, and people said ¨Shh, someone better is singing.¨

I sang my cracked tune louder

But even though I sang, those people still planted seeds in my head

That I was not meant to sing, to fly, to show off my wings

Then I met him.

A beautiful brown eyed wonder

His wings were the color of spring, and his song would make me melt

He told me he loved my tune.

That my wings simply needed to be cleaned up.

I spent time with him, and every time, he made me soar through the skies

But after a while, this song was no longer sweet

It was a match

A match he used on my wings many times

When I would cry out in pain from the fire he set, he would apologize.

Tell me how much he loved me.

And then the cycle would repeat.

I constantly sing that it wouldn´t happen again, but my song was worse than ever

My wings could no longer be dirty, they were gone.

How could I escape this beauty turned beast if I could no longer fly?

Easy.

I could no longer.

And soon, his matches took away my song too. 

Reviews

[J. B.]

ooooo. this is a rough one, but I really enjoyed it. very colorful writing with a direct point of meaning. I look forward to reading more of your work, and feel free to check out some of mine if you get a chance to; there are quite a few pieces I think you can relate to :)

[Horizons]

Ooh... so tearful!

It oft. happens to heart when it's so drained in some dejavu of love. Everything looks so sweet, and spicy in the beginning of love, but sooner the time goes, sooner the sweetness of love gets hid, & solely replaced with some bitterness of life that change the color... so the taste of love, instantly. I liked the way how you write down your feelings unto papers... in such poetic form.