Plucked Feathers

09/07/2015 23:37

On the floor of a yellow autumn and an abyss of depression

I close my eyes and open my heart to say an empty confession

They hear but never listen always ready to bring me down

I rush out the door to find an escape out of town

My dreams tend to be my escapade and my sedation

My pillow, my blanket and my teddy bear seem to be my annihilation

Bring me down and pluck my feather

I will pick it up from the ground

I fight the storms and kill the weather

To end up with a defeaning voice and sound

Hold my hands till the end faith

Don't let me go now

I wrap my bleeding wrists in an ivory swathe

I will do what I have to do and don't question me how

Last but not the least, the plucked wing can fly

Fight for what you want because life is about do or die