I was once what you would call free,
a bird in the sky, or a melody
floating into the atmosphere,
adrift with no fear to tether me,
until all at once I was struck,
like the splatter form a shotgun
or the breaking of a harp string,
left one note short
and a few feathers shy,
forced to live a life with no music,
until the very day that I die.

Buy the Original

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top