I was happy in our home and she answered all my needs
So the day that my first person died, I was sorely grieved.
I plucked out all my feathers as a sign of my distress.
My silences spoke volumes about how I was depressed.
My first persons’ other family didn’t want a cockatoo,
So they took me to the shelter on the day that I found you.
Now I sing and speak and play. I’m happy once again,
But I will never once forget her; my first person and my friend.

I am anatomically correct
But atomically, a mess
I am chaotic and undressed
One hundred thousand bricks
Comprised of tiny pieces all compressed

I am a prison for little hollow ghosts
That push until pulled
While I am standing here still
And they climb to the top where they come to a stop
At a grave on a cemetery hill

She fills up the air
With soft falling notes
That burst from her eyes
And dance with the ghosts by the light that once burned
To the song of the Seraphim's sigh

Bring to me a pair of aces
Smiling faces and a cup of coffee
Empty spaces and her heart
Torn from the tearing
Of teeth gnashing, eyes glaring
As I stand here still playing my part
Her music my magic
A cage for the tragic
And the life I've been too scared to start

She used to sing to the storm
With her outstretched right arm
Lines forming from rain that would spill
Yearning to feel something other than real
The night she plunged into the cemetery hill

A call to order is sounded
The drummer pounds for attention
As I'm fixed on the light on the sea
The full moon's reflection is my insurrection
When still burns the fire
In her eyes, I aspire to be
Lifted into the air, without worry or care
Take these ghosts from my bonds and set free
For the chains of despair, when I was made to wear
Sank me into the depths of the sea
But I can now take to flight
On the might of the light
She burns brightly if only for me.

My face is grave and unchanging
Like that of a marble statue
You attack me with your words
You scrutinize my flaws
Your voice devours my identity and shreds it
Your distain at what I am claws at my insecurities
You call me pathetic, you try to get a rise out of me
But I staring straight forward
Eyes open, yet unseeing
Ears hearing, but not listening
You scream my name
Over
And over
And over
I appear to be shrouded in darkness
Unreachable
Distant
Frozen in time
At last the echoes of my name snag my attention
I turn to you and speak
Did you say something?

Repost if your attention span (like mine) is too short for anyone's words to hurt you because you weren't listening ;P
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! 

Sometimes I sleep

                                just to escape

being.