Untitled Poem by Adrian Merovingian

Like a bird with a broken wing
I watch you sputter around
Is there any way
Wounded one
I can help you into the air again?
A telegraph?
A postage stamp?
A message on the wire?
I hear the fear in the beat of your heart
The crush of pride in a bird with a broken wing
Oh that you could fly with me
But your mending must not be cut short
Fret not now with tears or harsh words
For the time is coming when we will
Fly away from this, And not look back.
Did I hear you -
Yes I believe it was you in my attic
Flapping around with your broken wing
Stirring up dust that had been settled for years
Halt - What is your errand? Wounded one...
What seek ye in the dark
While all but the watchers eye slumbers?
Be on your way, benzodiazipine wraith that you are
No matter how invisible you seem to be
I still feel your heart beating
Do not fret wounded one
Your wing will mend
And you will be just another memory
As the dust settles once agin in my attic