Little bird let fly
Don’t you dare lie
Beside me in the grave,
I dug this cave
For me and not no other,
Smothered myself and fled my brothers;
Enslaved, if you will,
I know it’s no Seville,
But it’s my soul at the reckon,
And that wreckin’s beckoned,
And try as I might,
I’m dying of fright
Of life and of you,
Engrained on me as a stinging tattoo.
Won’t do us no good to wonder,
Tip our heads to call the thunder;
I’m already killin’ myself slowly,
Me, wholly unholy
And I’ll not see you follow me whereby
Your own bitter end supply.
* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community. Enjoy!