Poem || Little Birdie

Little Birdie

The pest hit its beak 
against the iron clads
the sound, Clack-Clack 
echoed in the ears 
of passing dreck 

The pest with its uneven beak 
stared beyond its world 
where life wasn't a wreck 
but every was of its own 

The pest with eyes wide open 
wanted to reach to the sky 
but its clipped wings, saddled 
and weeped sadness, 
during the buzz of the light 

The pest wanted to sing 
of words that brought joy 

The pest wanted for once 
to be called a bird 


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