Beneath The Tumult

Beneath my tumult,

that ever pressing ill

aspect that crawls it

is showing pain real.

I want to go missing,

and read the headline.

They’d say little for in

me little they’d find.

So I guess my chaos,

ever pressing me ill,

I’ll have to cut to nill;

hence this blue pill.

I want to be simple,

but everything fixed

into the depths mind

of mine hurt afflicts.

I want to be a bird so,

I might feed on seed;

I want hollow bones I

want only for to feed.

Make a few boards so

I may see such a sight.

Hesitant hand feed me;

I soft want not a fight.

I want the dew to slip,

over my sturdy talon.

I ever forward fly now,

troubles without them.

Photo By Me

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s