One single little bird
A sad sorrow voice trying to be heard
Engulfed in raindrops and feathers
Waiting for an answer.

The chirp of one
Surrounded by its music, wishing he were done
Its song carried on the branches and arboreal wind
All alone, answering its own echo.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Like an airplane reaching its climb they break through
My once composed and seamless blanket is now a
        valley of holes punctured and breaking,
They seep into my pores and leave me shaking.

These words manifested as bullets and knives
To do endless damage, leave me barely alive.

But the friendliest of fire is what hurts me the most,
My most powerful enemy and advisory is the one
         free to coast.
That who truly knows what is inly flung,
In myself, only I can be undone.

My exterior is a thin barrier,
My only defense against the world.

The woods know nothing of your great ordeal
The light leads you to the place you are bound
And in the end, all of the wounds will heal.

From trees, the leaves, fall to the Earth and conceal
Which lay in wait upon the laden ground
The woods know nothing of your great ordeal,

Each bird's sweet song will only help you deal
With that which was what made your heart feel drowned
And in the end, all of the wounds will heal.

It’s not a simple thing a poet spiels
At once you have a sense that you are found
The woods know nothing of your great ordeal,

The world around will have a certain appeal
Your feet lead you towards that which will astound
And in the end, all of the wounds will heal.

It’s hard to have a past that you must seal
But nature will help you feel quite unbound
The woods know nothing of your great ordeal,
And in the end all of the wounds will heal.

The night is like an ocean of mystery,
        taking you where to go,
to the deep, until the light makes you go away.

At night you dream while I explore,
         the weary midnight dreams.
The mysteries of the deep.

The night words.
The light words.
Until twilight
         a new night to sail on.