by Skyless » Tue Jan 28, 2014 2:18 pm
Amber saw Henry cringe and lifted him into a bed of flowers. The flowers were blue and sagging, but a bed all the same. She cried, stroking the blood coated wings of her dying bird.
I know why
the caged bird sings.
A caged bird stands
on a grave of dreams,
his shadow shouts on
a night mares scream.
We think the caged bird sings,
when indeed, he cries.
The song of a bird,
can never be caged.