BLACKBIRD
Fly, fly,
Blackbird.
I don’t know what you’ve seen nor heard,
But I know it hurt.
Sticks and stones,
Did not,
But being thrown to the dirt did a lot.
Cry, cry ,
Blackbird.
They felt obligated to lie,
But did they know you cried at night,
Scared of the dark as if you were born to sleep in light.
Goodnight,
Blackbird,
I hope freedom has cleared your once blurred vision.
To Mars, Jupiter, and finally heaven,
While you try to forget all that happened at seven.
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Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to Çiğdem Onur
on Pixabay
