hey, there's a bluebird in my chest

'find what you love and let it kill you.'
that's what they say, isn't it? well, i've found what/who i love, and i'm letting it/them kill me.
slowly dying, isn't that a tragedy?

hey, there's a bluebird in my chest,

can you see it?

fluttering its clear navy wings

through the bars of its cage?

i can't, not really,

not when it's shut up inside,

caged and stolen.

i didn't want it though,

it was an unintentional robbery,

i never wanted this

happy-go-lucky bluebird.

i'm not a pessimist, i'm a realist,

but optimists get on my nerves,

especially this one,

this stupid cheerful bluebird.

why won't he leave?

he's a flipping bird after all,

isn't he supposed to migrate or

something as the winter of my heart approaches?

how in purgatory did we end up like this?

you little bluebird & me,

so alone as i lock you away once more,

toss away the key.

don't be afraid,

my little bluebird,

you're my little bluebird,

i'd never hurt you.

i'm just thinking of setting you free,

to roam across my empty chest.

The End

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