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birdy Oct 6
filled with futile passion.

tears meant to be rationed
pooling at my knees,
spilling so fast
its hard to see.

a sea of futile passion,
beautiful but,
worth nothing
when its time to cash-in.
birdy May 18
Never felt quite like this,
like i’m just existing
existing sweeps me away like a tide
my mind moves slowly down it like a delicate wooden raft
only to accelerate until it crashes
and I have to reset each time
each time losing a plank
until i’m quite literally on my last straw
well… semi-literally
and it *****
because I don’t even know why
why im putting myself through the journey
birdy May 18
I’m sick of trying to make my thoughts beautiful

I’m too tired to think in verses

Poetry is like a whole other language

Sometimes I feel like I’m pretending to be bilingual

I’m not an artist

Like the rest of you
birdy Feb 16
if eyes are the window to the heart
why do i like to see yours closed
at rest

perhaps the anticipation of opening
the shutters

proves more beautiful
than the view
birdy Feb 14
definitive death
deafening dark
a break never to be unbroken

now how must i find

the heart of a feeling

the throat of an emotion

the end to a thought

how can i know the last page of a story
when page numbers lose meaning
my poetry frivolous like—-
crayon scribbles in a colouring book
birdy Feb 7
A crossroads.

a path encased in forest
green patchwork of branches, keep secret—-
the memories of shoes on the mossy trail

a path paved pretentiously
wood rebelliously pushing back against the green
overthrowing the chaos of jagged weeds
all the same suppressing the beauty of the wild flowers

a cleared path
barren of trouble
barren of life

a secluded path
enveloped in mystery
enveloped in regret

a guaranteed destination

an invitation to...
birdy Jan 24
i’m addicted to beauty
i no longer want my poetry
to remind me
of the ominous goal
that you can never understand
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