Birds flying too low
from a bird’s eye view,
can you see them too?
The few,
the abused.
The broken the miserable
coming to you all on cue.
The lay of the land,
the eyes above the trees,
like tinfoil soldiers,
and the lions’ mane, the dandelion seeds.
The sandy waters of rivers with no name,
to you bastardous birds,
I guess life is just a game.
Omniscience must be a *****,
to see all this agony and become immune,
to the pain of others,
Even you above us apathetic,
I hope your soul can still be exhumed.
I hope you are not too far gone,
I think to say for all the shame and the horrific memories,
the clocks that mock as time stands still,
That scars aren’t forever,
that time will eventually heal,
that the past is doesn’t have to feel,
so surreal, so terrible, so awful,
so horrible, so horrific, That life calls for another
quick fix.
Even if they can see, and you wonder why they wouldn’t bother to save you or me,
all they can do is watch and observe,
and when you’re unsure,
there’s better ways to let it all blur,
become obscure,
and allow yourself to feel again pure.
Set yourself free.
please.
2 comments
Reading this as the first thing on here after a while, was really great. Thanks for sharing. I’ve always wondered where birds go, when they die?
I interpreted the part with the watching and observing, with the birds, because we definitely do that. And they don’t need to watch us, we’re boring compared to their freedom. So we’ll be the ones looking and them, wondering.. *sighs*
I’m really glad you enjoyed my piece, the allusion of observation is more like a nod to the freedom of the birds. How they can pick up and fly away at will. And how we as humans are juxtapose, more or less feeling stuck in place.