The bird sat still
For years.
One wing was free.
First moving wildly,
while the other was tied down.
The bird learned through watching.
Fed by the wind.
To survive this flightless life,
still full of light.
Never reaching potential heights.
Now set free he didn’t even know how to fly anymore.
There sits a still bird still.
Watching.
Wondering what it’s like
up there .


Shell ✨🐚

Poems,
like unsend letters
Putting it out there.
Sending them to the universe.
Like traveling stars from afar.
Hoping they reach their destination.
For the one to read and understand.




Shell✨🐚

You are on the battlefield
Killing another human being
Do you know him?
Throwing bombs and firing missiles.
Killing innocent children.
Innocent just like yours.
Don’t you have children in your family?
Do you feel good doing this, satisfied?
To be the cause of so much pain and sadness.
Look at each other on the battlefield.
You two are the same.
Killing for peace.
You won’t die a hero.
There are no winners in war, only losers.



Shell ✨🐚

I fear at times that I don’t know if my true self is still within me
Sometimes I fear she’s gone away
Sometimes I catch glimpses of her
In poetry I have saved, yet no one cares to read it, at least not fully through
I understand what Kurt said in his last note
Needing to be unfeeling, in desperate attempts to regain enthusiasms that were once had in years of early childhood
I feel utterly alone most days
Many years I have yearned for something I do not even know what is
What am I without my writing? What am I with it?
I can never write consistently, I can never predict what I will feel from one day to the next, yet many days feel the same
And there lingers the same utter pain
Writers block is an unintentional passion of mine
Fear is my best friend
Sadness is one of my greatest companions
Nostalgia appears several times a week
Anger eats me alive
Am I anything but a mere tragedy? A copy of other poets who have lost their minds? Am I original enough? Why must I feel the need to be so unique, to over explain everything I have ever felt?

I'm desperately searching
For an ounce of permanence
In a world in which
Everything fades to nothingness

I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer