bird poem.

I’ve been contemplating for the past three days,
Words to describe my precise emotions,
And I become embarrassed by myself,
For not even being able to, in such a small time,
When God created the universe in only four days more.

But I suppose that reflects the design of my life,
A complex arrangement of reaching so passionately,
Enough to recognize my own bones snapping
In the process of misunderstanding the phrase,
“Everything happens for a reason.”

For how could there be an eventual reason,
Of a discontinuation towards embracing your mother,
Or an inability to say what you should’ve said,
And your father, rotting his own soul away,
Never being able to say hello or goodbye.

Yes, I know very well that there is no reason,
To lose so many individuals who vowed to stay
Despite any other contradictions from fate,
And to so beautifully fall for someone,
Whom could care less if the sun shined on you.

So, I am left into the greatened mist,
Enclosed by a plague of remorse for breathing,
Comprehending that perhaps they were right after all,
That maybe each of us are volcanoes,
Waiting to erupt with miraculous colors of fruitlessness.

Yet, as a collective eternity encircles my mind,
As a whirlwind encompasses the implanted feet,
There, in the distance, is something much more formidable
Then the grief, and the confusion, and the heartbreak,
Greater than even my own voice, shrieking injustice.

It flies.

It’s wings slicing through the impenetrable fog,
It’s eyes brightening the decayed surroundings,
It’s song, piercing into my own demonic ideologies,

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