Birds flew into hurricane,
the angry whirl of woe,
someone threw them in,
oh, what an act of sorrow.
They're not born for troubles,
they're meant for flying free,
now they drown in gusts of fear
they cannot ever flee.
Some begin to cope with that,
devastating crushing menace,
and begin like its own
perverted view of solace.
But many birds seem not to care
they fly around in pain
seeking clear skies up somewhere,
where's better life to claim.
Yet there they are,
tiny hopeless beings,
that die when they tire,
seldom with happy endings.
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 6:30 PM UTC
What is a servant without master?
Naught but a tool lacking purpose.
Pathetic and broken thing.
A shipwreck in an empty desert.
Lonely jester at a graveyard.
Drowning in a sea of own tears.
Suffocating in the plain air.
Crushed by a hungry void.
Dying hope of a little light
Flickering in a sea of darkness.
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC
You're there,
gorgeous, teasing,
playing unfair.
And I perish,
heartbroke, whispering
my dying wish.
Keep losing you every night
every fight.
Struggle, which is infinite
lost jigsaw bit.
I miss your breath,
your waist's breadth,
your witsful moan,
your playful groan,
your worries even,
all waking me in Eden.
Doomed forever, kept away
lusting for one happy day.
Awhile together in embrace...
then never see each others face.
For I know, my dove,
from Hell came our love!
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 2:51 PM UTC