Warnings: depiction of depression
Years ago somebody asked what animal I'd be
Caught off guard I faked a laugh, the answer clear to me
"I would be a bird," I claimed, gluing on a grin
Pretending I'd not thought at all when I spoke from within
They asked me why I'd be a bird so I tried to act proud
"I would still be a sight to see and float just like a cloud."
I think they laughed or maybe smiled, by now that day's a blur
But one thing I remember well, of one thing I am sure
They had no empathy for me, at least not on that day
I would have bared my heart to them if they'd cared what I'd say
But just between the two of us, there's something you should know—
Trust that what I say is true, although it does not show
"Birds are pretty but their beauty's only feather deep—
Rid us of the masks we wear; the sight will make you weep.
Birds are good at flying but I'm an awesome flier too;
I leave my problems all behind, which hurts both me and you.
Yet what makes be a bird the most—this fact will send you reeling—
Is birds have hollow bones and I've an endless empty feeling."
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
