Mockingbirds, those beautiful creatures with feathers
as delicate as a whisper, find themselves trapped within
the confines of a cage, their melodic songs
silenced by the prison that surrounds them.

As they spin on the scale, their movements resemble
the graceful twirls of your hair, each strand reflecting the
music that dances in your soul. The sight leaves me awestruck,
my gaze fixated on the cracks in your eyes.
They tell tales of a life filled with both joy and sorrow, and
I can't help but be captivated by the depth within them.

But amidst this enchantment, I cannot help but feel
a pang of sadness for the little birdie that flew into a
deceptive net, its tiny body possibly breaking its delicate neck.
This mere accident, this twist of fate, has brought a sense
of loss and pain. In an attempt to make amends, to reclaim a
semblance of what was lost, I will venture back to the store.

I will seek out the mockingbird's freedom,
buying back its worth with the hopes of restoring
the balance that has been disrupted.

For in this act, I hope that I can bring a ray of light
to your world, honoring the beauty that lies within you
and the harmony that the mockingbirds sought to emulate.

May this small gesture of returning the caged bird symbolize
a larger journey towards reclaiming the freedom and worth
that was once taken away.

~
Are we all the same distance apart?
Are we nocturnal
because we buy into
rhythmic disturbance,
trying to find a memory
in a dark room?

In shadow of advancing myth,
there's evidence of hunters
in the glowlight,
with wings outstretched,
solitary and contrite,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.

From sticks to bitterness,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.
~

you share with me such hurtful words
that are a balm to
my kindred soul.

they hurt as they leave your summer wine lips
and drip like molten wax
upon my chest,
and heart,
and mind,
and touch my soul...

verse after verse.

you entwine my eroded coil
within your moonlight glow,
and tell me all the things
I so hungrily needed to know.

you wrap my broken hands
within your silken ones.

I crave to part your lips,
and share in such a melody.
that starlight hum.
that midnight medley.
that dark and ever-glowing sonnet
that brought you to my desolation.

I yearn to kiss them with my ones,
those lips as warm as starlight flame,
as perfect as the heart of night,
as young as time itself.

but mine are blistered
by frigid winds,
and bloodied from some fist
I've recently had to stomach...

see, there is a moment, a speckle in Time
when you’re in the darkness before you see Light
you follow the patterns inside of your brain
and relive the memories that caused you such pain

but somehow your heart stirs the body it keeps
and offers perspectives you never could see
you choose to start living and breathing anew
you pick up the pieces, surrender to Truth

see, there is a moment, a second you get
to live in your body or die in your head
the latter comes easy, society says
the former is work for the rest of your breaths