Where the Birds Come to Die

nicholas johnson

12 Feb, 2013 08:39 PM
Why is it so cold, so dark,
Where all the birds come to die?
Dusty feathers and echoing songs
lurk under a stormy sky.

The flock of flocks is lost and alone
Ending up perching here
Skeletons fall where talons once danced
Without sound, they fall like tears

Is the sky crying,
the clouds shedding rain,
Is that why, everywhere,
clockwork patterns swirl red stains?

A lone raven haunts the sky
Then thirsts for a child's dream,
But before he can land in the trees and sing,
He’s thrown aback by the stream.

There's a cave in the woods, at the mouth of a cove
Hidden by branches and leaves
Where birdsong dies and silence is stern
Believe the stagnancies is too serene

Why is it so cold, so dark, 
At the valley of my mind?
Like the birds, all joy dies,
And leaves me soul less in the empty sky.
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