It Could Be Poem by Manonton Dalan
It Could Be
feathers growing on my arms
my lips is shaping to a beak
claws comes from my fingers
hopping to reach wooden bench
i forgot to walk; can't talk
i'm craving to reach treetops
i'm invisible to sadden eyes
one throw me piece of crumbs
trying to talk to me and some
i hop away i glide through
my head brushes few branches
blood drips; now i am in tears
Saturday, December 15, 2012
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5/7/2024 12:10:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
