I saw you pour him out,
break his fragile shell,
with hungry, greedy
snatching needy fingers.
His green and red feathered wings,
held no strength,
and flight?
Not again ever.
You slandered his name,
profane,
each hand breaking a wing,
stepping on the spine,
and slandering,
like one smears paint around a room,
and ignored him when he reached out,
tried to utter words,
but watched him with broken teeth,
and ****** mouth.
Pouring his heart out,
eyes begging for help.
Wings broken
but feathers still held gold,
despite the pain.
Despite the acid rain.
But mercy didn't fit your regime,
nor did it fit your ideal dream,
your beautiful doe eyes,
ignored his cries,
feathered green,
cardinal plumes,
freckles and fumes,
washed away,
in the passing stream,
old candor,
street car fumes,
wickered and gray
I hope you pay.
I hope you pay.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
I saw you pour him out,
break his fragile shell,
with hungry, greedy
snatching needy fingers.
His green and red feathered wings,
held no strength,
and flight?
Not again ever.
You slandered his name,
profane,
each hand breaking a wing,
stepping on the spine,
and slandering,
like one smears paint around a room,
and ignored him when he reached out,
tried to utter words,
but watched him with broken teeth,
and ****** mouth.
Pouring his heart out,
eyes begging for help.
Wings broken
but feathers still held gold,
despite the pain.
Despite the acid rain.
But mercy didn't fit your regime,
nor did it fit your ideal dream,
your beautiful doe eyes,
ignored his cries,
feathered green,
cardinal plumes,
freckles and fumes,
washed away,
in the passing stream,
old candor,
street car fumes,
wickered and gray
I hope you pay.
I hope you pay.
This poem is about abuse. I am so sick of hearing about people who are supposed to protect the innocent hurting them.
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