the birds scream, i sit at the verge

the birds scream
dismayed at
the lack of sun
the gray skies
threaten rain
the wind feels
nefarious as i
drink coffee with
dread bubbling up

i have learned to
trust the currents
as they ripple
around my indifference
i drop leaves
to see the water churn
the things beneath
they hunger

the tired, the ache, the knowledge
that life has beaten into me
my own lack of importance and no
matter how hard i strive to be
more, there will never be enough
inside the rusted tank that holds
my guts and dreams and hopes

the birds scream
sullen anger at
the clouds that seek
to stop the sun
as if they can see
my soul is the sky
a cluster of wan gray
churning in turmoil
in a storm that
bursts at the seams
yet never seems to rain

3 thoughts on “the birds scream, i sit at the verge

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