A bone inside my body



If it counts
I wander very often
That I am starting to tell
How my feet has a soul
Even in its caged manner
The ripe
Feel of rust
In every corner
The strings
Which the cage hangs onto
It is like a parrot
Speaking
Echoing
Trying to be smart
It told me
That the feathers under its wing
No,
the white lines
Between black hair
Is a silver thread in a hay stack
Trying to be gold
This obscurity
Clause
Might be why the windows
are always mugged
With water
That
If i were to die now
And live for another day
How genuinely one could be so happy,
When it has disappointed.

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