Identity

Wed, 04/06/2016 - 22:19 -- Tora

The Bird inside my soul

sings beautiful, powerful, free.

She laughs and cries and lives,

she is the key to me.

 

But as the lava burns

the voice soon starts to die, 

and all I'm left with is

the dead Bird that can no longer cry.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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