I am the poet called, Sweetsilverbird,
but friends all know that I will never fly;
unless it is by every waking sigh
or every dream or wish or written word.
I have a tender heart that's often stirred,
but that's the code that I would live life by.
I could not bear to try to live a lie,
so of all subterfuge I have been cured.
I think because life has been so unfair,
I will not play the games that others play.
Why does a lifetime have to go so fast?
Why tolerate the cruelty that's there?
But I am made of simple human clay
and only live as long as I shall last.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
I am the poet called, Sweetsilverbird,
but friends all know that I will never fly;
unless it is by every waking sigh
or every dream or wish or written word.
I have a tender heart that's often stirred,
but that's the code that I would live life by.
I could not bear to try to live a lie,
so of all subterfuge I have been cured.
I think because life has been so unfair,
I will not play the games that others play.
Why does a lifetime have to go so fast?
Why tolerate the cruelty that's there?
But I am made of simple human clay
and only live as long as I shall last.
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