Being stuck is more twisted than you might think.
Trying to jump back and forth between uneven land.
Never knowing when you will fall down the like loose sand.
Like a bird in a cage.
Fluttering back and forth.
Freedom itself.
But people not understanding.
"Was the bird injured beforehand?"
"Did you take it from the wild?"
"Did you have it since a baby?"
Relentless thinking for them as it is for someone like me.
There is no proper help.
There is no proper answer.
I see beyond as far as I can see every chance I get.
Maybe I'm cute.
Maybe I am just exotic.
Maybe I can do cool tricks.
But what can I really do?
I am many things.
Like a tossed present.
What am I?
I don't think I can be helped.
I've tried helping myself as it is.
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Midnight Blue
कविताA midnight blue that becomes a blue midnight... ━ Highest rank: #1 - darkpoetry, #1 - darkpoems Cover Design: MIST BISHOP ┃ W MistElix-ir15
