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literature
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Literature Text
i am waiting for the moon to fall from my sky
and crack upon the crown of the earth
like some behemoth’s egg
to bleed rancid yolk
yellow as death
for my heart to find a rhythm
that doesn’t hurt
like a senseless bludgeoning against my ribs
which i am sure will cave soon enough
brittle as they are
killing me with shattered bone shrapnel
and i thought my wings were being clipped
like some caged parrot
but i was wrong
the feathers of my future are being plucked
wrenched out by the shafts
like pulling out my fingernails
and now i am realising
my tongue is still there
if bitten and lacerated
and i need it to move again
because i should not be bowing to this pain
© 2015 - 2024 AvisWing
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