blue bird | The Art of Poetry | Page 1

I fall flat again.
And again.
Sinking deeper into the mud in my mind.
porcelain plastered face pretending that I am fine.
I am not.
I will never be again.
I dug my own grave,
I Broke my own heart,
I Hallowed out my feelings,
Casting them far away and becoming a shell.
A gun shell.
Uselessly laying on the ground covered in the Reminence of the what I once was,
What I will never be again.
I am a empty cage
And the bird that held on to every feeling has left for another,
Because my rib cage that held her
Turned to winter instead of spring and the snow that fell has broke her.
The little blue bird left me in silence
Leaving my heart to beat alone in the cold.

Constructive criticism or comments welcome 🙂

#blue bird