The Poetry Collection of Brandon Mitchell

~Little Red Bird...

As the darkness sets in and the wind cuts to the bone, through the fire and the ash into Hell I shall roam.
A place left in disrepair. Where graves are cracked open and trees are stripped bare.
In a land so black and grim, yet peaceful and calm.
Laid to rest are the remains of many, dead and gone.
I sit at your headstone with a vase full of dead flowers..Talking to you and passing the hours.
In hopes of something, just a clue or a sign.
Maybe I'm searching for something that I'll never find.
Feeling so lost and wondering about, I raise my hands towards the heavens as I scream and shout!
I don't know what I'm doing here, uncertain of how I feel, but these needles in my heart are very real.
This pain that pierces me from within, its a constant reminder, again and again.
As I begin to walk away, your voice I thought I heard..
From out of nowhere appears this little, red bird....

~Brandon Mitchell