A Random Collection of Poems

Birds of a Feather

Silly gosling with your feathery down,
Dont go in the water or you'll start to drown.
Molting your feathers, you start to pluck,
Wishing you were a bright, cheerful duck.
But you're not a duck for your neck is too long,
Your feathers too dark with a darker song.
Fall into bleach, dying your feathers blonde,
Wishing you were a pure, graceful swan.
But you've plucked your skin, red, raging, and raised,
No more sleek feathers, your vision hazed.
With the tears in your eyes telling the story,
Of losing yourself before you start to feel lovely.