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Chelsea Rae
Poems
Sep 2016
Winged Words
I hate how words die in me and other days they fly in me.
Wings flapping against my heart,
Trying to flutter out of my mouth
as they take off from my tongue.
Right now, there is just an empty room
With feathers on the floor
and nests waiting for eggs to hatch.
What do I do to get it all back?
Where do I find the warmth for these eggs
and how do I nourish the nestlings long enough
to teach them to fly
like I did once before?
Written by
Chelsea Rae
ut
(ut)
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