Featherless wing on black concrete
You weep and say, “It’s broken”
But you bounce back all the same
Happy again, if incomplete

Pitiful fruit on a withered vine
Birds of sorrow, pecking every day
You can’t know how much they hurt
Until your torment equals mine

Sweeping winds of limitless rage
You wrap around me, gradually
The nest is neat, your arms are warm
I don’t realize you’ve built my cage

Sputtering flame in the grip of ice
The same cyclical mistakes
Trying to escape the pecking pain
And I turn to you, my only vice

Enhanced by Zemanta

Leave a Reply