To The Bird

To the bird that found its way to me, 

For me to see its beady black eyes

That hide no emotion, and can't dare cry 

Because that's only for the weak and broken. 


To the bird that slowly opened its wings for me 

Who constantly chirped and wouldn't leave me be,

You're too smart to just be a plain bird.

Imbedded in my hands, telling me you loved me, 

I must've just misheard.


To the bird that drew blood whilst pecking at me,

I've grown tired of this exhausting responsibility.

For I think it's high time I set you free.


To the bird that refuses to leave me be, 

I'll pull out your feathers until you bleed

Just do you can be my foe. 

And maybe then you'll agree,

You shouldn't have passed by my window. 

This poem is about: 


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