There is not a sound in my beautiful land
The wind doesn't blow and no rustling of sand
The clouds froze like cracks in the city of glass
No animal walks on the always green grass
I am a canary bird whose voice is now mute
The bird has my eyes and white fur and looks cute
But there's under feathers the horrible ball
Surrounded by veins dehisces the hole
My heart was ripped out by a feeling some call
The blessing, the healing, and treacherous goal
And now it lies still with no pulsing in blood
On the perfect seashore in my beautiful land
The Canary Bird
© Copyright: Podrostok, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117093008046
Свидетельство о публикации №117093008046
Рецензии