Wings on the Bird

The feel of abstractness has never been so heavy and honest.


Why do the ducks speak about being counted and symmetry be found only on the leaves

With the beauty of the dusk being cleansed by the selfishness of the heart

As I write this, smell of the falling water cracks a noise of coldness

Is it the demented that has caught me or is it just the start of calm


The clues to the hero is always in the Ending and the beginning of the story is always a choice.

The caged bird's quest for salvation wants it to be challenged like it has never been before