#181 (bird-shaped holes)

In my town

doves don’t cry

they die

leaving

bird-shaped holes

*

you could make a necklace

out of bird-shaped holes

but some might consider it

cruel and ugly

**

cruel and ugly

is that nobody cried

for any of them

and as I bead my tears

instead of bird-shaped holes

they call me pathetic

***

pathetic and weak

sometimes sad but never lonely

a feather on every window

three feathers on my shrine

a bird-shaped hole in my heart

 

14th November

 

 

 

 

 

 

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