Little Bird Lost

I wrote this poem back in 2010 (March to be precise) at a time I needed reminding that no matter how bad things get, you have to have hope, you have to believe that things will get better, because things do invariably get better.

I kinda need reminding of this today… things DO get better.

What now little bird,
all tattered and torn
Your feathers are broken,
You spirit forlorn

no tears can you weep,
that well has run dry
But your heart flows a river
you moment is nigh

Hope, little bird
Astir in your breast
in the the darkest of hours
your strength will attest

on wings made of joy
your spirit will try
To beat back the black depths
And re-learn how to fly



Break me,
Shatter my bones with your hate.
Tie me down with the blood of my own body.
Your words slice away at my resolve.
Steal my spine,
I crumble at your feet.
Melt my heart and make me forget,
lock away the darkness and throw away the key.
Pandora’s box of tears,
do not open.
Bathe me in sunlight,
no shadows will I see,
take the mirror and smash my soul.
I am already broken so what does it matter.


Opening lines are hard to write, harder still when it isn’t some random flight of fancy, but rather the opening for what will be a very personal blog entry.

I guess the most logical place to start would be a brief description of the above poem. Did you like it? It is okay if you didn’t, it isn’t particuarly pretty, in fact I would liken it to a slap in the face with a week dead tuna, but that was perhaps how I was feeling at the time I wrote it.

I was angry.

I was sad.

I was impotent.

I had been crushed so far into the dirt I had almost lost my sense of self. I had given up on myself, and dare I say it, I had almost given up on life as well. It all sounds so melodramatic but I honestly have no other way to describe it. Nor do I know why I let someone have that much power over me. It is part of the reason why I decided to write a book of poetry (illustrated of course), I find poetry very cathartic and excellent for my sanity.