Birds

From grace he fell.

Battered and bruised. 
starving as well. 

But the scars never faded, and his bones were still sharp.

Sharp and hollow, he was ready to take flight. 

The small bird forgets a world outside of the cage--or he pretends to.

But the puzzle's pieces fit together a little too well...

And maybe there's a reason he never healed.

Maybe the bruises never stopped coming.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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