“I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore; when he beats his bars and he would be free, it is not a carol of joy or glee, but a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core.” – Paul Laurence Dunbar
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| andreation |
Simple prognosticated rhythms flow and diverge
Collapsed principles pile in crumpled beats
Pounding the seconds to say a moment
A tickled thought dances in pretend reality
Hobbled by fettered hope in surreal mist
Finding shadows that breathe life in short bursts
Life’s nemesis throttles the throat of peaceful suns
Wrestled notes become a winged song
