the birds are calling
i feel like crying
i used to love their
morning song
and still i do, and always will
but today my mind is
ill and tired,
the love inside me
is close to expired;
i'm drained and my eyes
are as sore as paper cuts.
these birds, they sing
soaring like i wish i could
oblivious to the irony they bring
that juxtaposition of
cheerful chirps
as a young man lies in bed
and wishes for...
something he won't name.