Fly Birdie

May 14, 2009
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The rusted gray cage swings open with a creak
The shards of noise still lingers in the air
My hand now fastened to the handle
Is quivering and won't let go
My eyes fix to the empty swinging perch
Only a feather is left in its spot
But the wind picks up and now that's gone too
I squint up to the sun with little hope
Just wishing he's gonna turn himself back
The dryness of my throat is breaking me
And lets every rickety breath be miserable
My chin is trembling and my body's hunched over shaking
My hand swings to my side and the one tear turns too many
Now they gush down my face and it's salt stings my face
The bird is as free as my tears and my mom holds me tight
“It was time,” She says, but there's no fooling me
He was never happy, it was all me





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