Gazing at the sad sorrowed remains
of what once was a person.
Now finding beauty in destruction
theres no chance of being saved.
Ink starting to flow out
like the tears that burned my face
when everything had been destroyed
but it's strange
because now all is slowly piecing back together.
Finally I start to feel free
I'm no longer a bird trapped in a cage
beating itself to death on the cold metal beams
in a pointless act of trying to escape.
No im a flower now budding but I know
that someday I'll bloom and I'll show everyone
I'll show myself
how I was spared the life of sadness
but for now I'll keep my pen and notebook to myself.