Monday, August 29, 2011

brittle

You’re my little sparrow
Stuck with pins
Cut off your wings
At the crescent moon

Sing tales of all
That’s yet to come
Of all the wrath
That’s coming soon

You’re my little songbird
Fly home now if you dare
Or wallow in my pity words
There’s swallow’s feet stuck there

I warned them too
With silver moon
With sparkling wine
With smiles

Yet each one said twas just a prick
And vowed to stay a while

Oh gaping stars and thunderstorms
Come steal away beguilement
Wither my bones, wrinkle my skin
That I may harm no more

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