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Just...Something.
31 Jan 2025 00:13 by
κ§πΈπππ₯π ππππ§ππ£ππππκ§
The Little Bird
She flies,
escaping the nightmares.
They bite and chase,
tearing at her feathers,
at her mind.
A storm of light and burning comes,
fires sparking and destroying,
and all is quiet.
Yet the quiet is not this little bird's friend
it is not the peaceful silence of others.
No, it is when the nightmares come for her,
tearing apart her heart.
The rush of ocean waves echoes,
and the birds around her chatter,
full of sunshine and joy.
Yet she is silent as death,
no longer singing the old tune she used to.
The other birds sing sweetly,
a song of happiness and rightness.
Except for the few who shriek angrily,
as they are the ones who never want peace.
No, they wish to yell at each other,
fighting over a useless topic,
calling each other's logic bad,
living in hate instead of love,
their shrieks of protests sounding evermore.
The Little Bird, like a river, hides away the storm.
Yet, it is powerful,
destroying everything once unleashed.
Seeming like such a sweet flower,
once triggered, the Little Bird snaps,
and her control is no more.
"If only they would quiet!" she cries out, referring to the birds so filled with anger.
For they fill her head with voices.
Voices that shout at her,
screaming oh so loud,
and she spirals into the abyss,
wishing her heart could be as light as a feather.
Whispers in the winds surround her,
telling her all the things she's not.
No other hears these whispers,
thinking her crazy.
The Little ones,
so close to her heart,
are so cheerful and beautiful,
yet bruises are inflicted on them by the one so close to THEIR heart.
She wants to help them, to protect them from him.
She wants to make him pay,
to make sure he never hurts them again.
But what could a quiet, small, useless little bird do?
Laughter from the other birds surrounds her,
and the sky, the world, is closing in on her,
stealing her breath as the storms of thoughts whirls.
"It's fine," they tell her
"stop being so dramatic" they say
but the world closes in so much faster now, till it's choking her.
Yet the storm brews,
tearing her apart as she wonders if all of it was real.
Was it?
The ringing of their shrieks deafens her again,
and she can only hear the screams of anger and frustration,
whether her own
or another's,
she does not know.
She thinks herself weak,
undeserving of peace.
She believes the whispers,
even though another part of her knows otherwise.
Even if she knows she doesn't want to fade away.
After all, she sees herself as the one she was said to be.
The one who is too loose with her heart,
the one who keeps on shouting at walls,
the one who just wants the attention and doesn't need help.
The Little Bird tries to soar,
and yet,
she is so scared of the winds that they knock her down,
shattering her glass heart,
nearly destroying her very essence,
Never do the others hear her sweet song,
the one she used to sing with such eagerness,
As the song has faded from her throat.
Yet no one notices that her song,
her spark,
her beautiful melody,
has stopped.
Never do they question why that little bird is so quiet,
why she flies alone most of the time.
After all, they never noticed her song fading away.
Did they ever care?
She carries the stones of others,
to share their sorrows,
yet she never does speak,
even if the words are squeezing her,
stealing away her hope,
making her feel so useless.
After all, she is just a stupid little bird,
who's just a burden to everyone else.
(Yes...it is kinda a vent...if you couldn't guess... Sorry, I guess...I guess it's just me being over dramatic again....I just wanted to write this...Sorry.)
κ§πΈπππ₯π ππππ§ππ£ππππκ§
- 31 Jan 2025 15:32
Reply to πΈοΈMidoriπΈοΈ:
Yeah.....
Reply
retyu68790iuygfdxyigh
- 31 Jan 2025 14:50
...........
β§β‘ππππ π£πβ‘β§
- 31 Jan 2025 14:09
Fr though...