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Thursday, December 01, 2005
The broken bird
On gravel pavement,
a shape of black.
Full of excitement,
in our people pack.
There it lies,
breathing heavily,
infront of our eyes,
but not at all lively.
When I hold it in my hands,
It blinked at me in innocence.
Its small little tear glands,
betrayed its confidence.
It flew,
low and quick,
disappeared as fast as dew,
in a clock tick.
As I walked on,
its innocence filled me with guilt,
for life has made me wanton,
and filled my brains with filth.
-weikiat
posted by Wicked at 11:10 AM
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