Flaming-Freebird

Starless nights are the worst. Starlit nights in open oceans. What a dream of wondering things. . . Like the heart it took to believe in one so young as she. It is the reflection on the water, mimicking the moon and the universe, created by shards of civilizations. One human would never dare to dream that kind of dream. Locked in confinements, held by the chains of a brief believe. It is okay to have faith, it is okay to think, too. So long as the shadow lingers, drifting down beneath the raft in the sea of uncertainty. Whispering softly below the waves 'see me, see me' but he who wears a blindfold will never be anything but blind

Our meaning is hidden between clever words, and woes for which we've never heard, and yet still seek to sedate. What wonderful people the world holds, cradled away in kindness. Those who know the horror and those who fight it. The poet says it's poetry, but I say it's poetry! And there's a difference when the thing is restless, turned and churned and it wont let go, why would you? There's a soul behind the story bared like a caged bird, flightless and exposed. She fears the eyes that gaze upon her, and locks herself away within a cage within her cage. Like the heart that isn't beating loud enough; it's bleeding in the crowd

I used to wake with holes On the sides of my torso -When I could sleep- I realised it was where you attached your headphones To hear me breathe And the scars on my eardrums Channelled my dreams But now I can not sleep For the mist forever falls And the stars are left uncovered With the capture of my heart The key lies beneath the sun Upon Orion's belt So I shall wait And put my trust In a man, made of stars.  

A beating heart of wings Twisted in tongue-tied knots Where fingertips tread And silence is sown Through gaps in the lungs of moths Bigger than I Smaller than me I dance with the fireflies light Turning rain to dew And still I try to convince myself That there is such a fear, as of butterflies