The little bird flies out of the nest
Spreads her little wings  
Her dear mother was still asleep
Die not notice the bird release
The little bird flies higher
The little bird flies further
Into the free world, into the big wide world
The little bird wanted to know everything What her dear mother had concealed
But when, hit by a piece of lead,
the little bird her last look in the free world took
The little bird finally understood
Why her mother had kept her silence

I watch movies about
angry little boys
and angry little girls,
and I cry because I'm jealous
that their spirit
never tired them out
the way mine did to me,
so I've stopped bothering
being mad about the fact
that my anger remains
untouched by true reality.

She was little when it started,
The constant remarks made behind her back.
They never seemed to stop and one day she listened.

They pinched at her arms and called them fat,
So she started wearing sleeves,
even though her arms were perfect.

They pulled at her hair and called it *****,
So she started wearing beanies/ hats,
Even though her hair was gorgeous.

They called her conceited,
So she believed she was ugly,
even though She was a masterpiece.

They called her teeth yellow,
So she stopped smiling,
even though it was beautiful.

They called her annoying,
So she stopped talking,
even though her voice was lovely.


They told her she was useless,
So she stopped trying,
even though she meant the world to some people..

I know someone.
He lives for the minuscule things,

For the few minutes of sunrises, 

Down to the seconds of sunsets,

For the moments the wind blows the dandelions, 

For the tiny drops of rain to his shoulders,

All of those, he takes a shot.


“He’s weird,” 
I thought.

I asked him, 
“Why bother?”

I’ll never look at things the same way again.

"Love the little things. 

Love the minutes the sky holds a different color. 

Love the wind that lets you have a chance
to wish for a promising tomorrow. 

Love the rain for it cries for or with you. 

Because those things just give a simple notation,
You’re still alive.”

I feel in truth                                                                                                            In a little village and                                                                                               Not in a big world like ours ...                                                                              I can connect myself                                                                                               With anyone easily through                                                                                  The internet that helps me                                                                                    Write what I like anytime ...                                                                                  Although there are thousands of                                                                         Miles separate us ,but we're much closer ...                                                        ___________________­_

Once I caught a shooting star...

Yet, I found it far too heavy to hold...
Soonish, I lost its grip,
quickly I watched it slip...
ashamed, not one soul I told...

So, now these days, high's come in waves...
colorful rememories, from those sweet times of old...

Still, if I could; I would rewind back time and tame it as mine...  
Maybe it just might have reversed this black hole...

But, as I now know:
as it is -irresistibly hard-
to not try to catch a shooting star...
Perhaps, it's easier just to let it go...

I used to be myself, I used to be complete
But people thought I was trying to hard to be something
So I changed myself into what I'd thought they'd want
Now I live my life pretending I belong

I have searched high and low for some kind of validation
But all I ever found are people with more expectations
So I will love with all I can
And hope that some day I'll finally feel like a man

I don't want to waste your time for you to figure out who I am
And I don't want you to waste mine just to leave me for who I am
My head might be my home but I am willing to leave
And if you show that you want it I'll give you the key

The only thing I learned in this world is to shut my filthy mouth
'Cause no one really cares about what comes out
I'm done trying just to be heard
So that I will have to rely on little birds

https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/little-birds

Pursed lips and oxygen slowly drips
from lips that were dyed red
with little, parasite lies
I consumed you whole and
the corpse you leave behind
is your true identity
of who you really were
a selfish *******.

How will a little child
open his eyes
in a world
that is filled with
lies?
Where unheard go
a mother's,
a wife's,
a daughter's
cries.