A dewdrop climbs
a cloud to inspect the
Broca's area and tears.

My speech was
fragmented, picking the
wrong words to convey-
the pith.

Weary thoughts tremble.
You won't be near me, when
the jungle burns.

A war always
looms large, between the sky
and caged birds.
I don't want to break.

Venus flytrap,
becomes my home, I need
to sit at the edge
till sun sets.