Waltfred Lee

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I have imagination enough to drown you, so close your eyes and take a dip.)

The Best Poem Of Waltfred Lee

Fallen Birds

A bird that can't fly,
can't hunt like eagles,
like the fallen leaves dried,
between the thorn's tangle.

It's feathers dusted with dirt,
feet with broken claws,
wings that always hurt,
dreams filled with flaws.

A bird that can't fly,
like it is in a cage
which limits the sky,
hopelessness between rage.

Uproar glare in it's eyes,
beak stained blood turns red.
A bird that can't fly,
hunts like lions instead.

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