Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
KingOfTheAsylumPoems
I’m the kind of sick A hospital can’t fix Even if the nurses try I’ll never learn to fly I’m a bird without its wings When I remember this predicament, it stings I want to learn to fly, to soar But my wings don’t work anymore I try to get out of bed Trying to get regularly fed But I rather dream of other places Meeting all the new faces I rather lay with all my comforting pillows Stay inside, away from the outside willows I rather sit in my own tears, soon to drown My lips seem to form a permanent frown Because what’s the use of a bird who can’t seem to fly It’s the equivalent of a human who wishes to die... AD 2019
0
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
Broken wings
I’m the kind of sick A hospital can’t fix Even if the nurses try I’ll never learn to fly I’m a bird without its wings When I remember this predicament, it stings I want to learn to fly, to soar But my wings don’t work anymore I try to get out of bed Trying to get regularly fed But I rather dream of other places Meeting all the new faces I rather lay with all my comforting pillows Stay inside, away from the outside willows I rather sit in my own tears, soon to drown My lips seem to form a permanent frown Because what’s the use of a bird who can’t seem to fly It’s the equivalent of a human who wishes to die... AD 2019
Written by
KingOfTheAsylum
16/Non-binary
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem