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The Bird That Couldn’t Fly

The Bird That Couldn't Fly

You couldn’t understand, this poem I have at hand,
Even if you tried, fathom the reason that she cried.
At night, in fright, reason she’d always try to hide,
Don’t try to come close, to propose, she’d just push you aside.

There’s a thing unknown, a tone, words she couldn’t convey,
She tries with all her might, in light and during the day.
To be herself around friends, till the end,
But something doesn’t feel right, in sight, a heart that couldn’t mend.

Pretends to be strong, all along, a tough outer shell,
But there’s always something wrong, a song of her private Hell.
She yearns to speak, seeks to tell the truth to you all,
But she’s way too weak, her peak’s broken without any glue.

Painfully shy, oh my; the bird that couldn’t fly,
Dying on the inside, collide; a body without a mind.
Maybe if you took the time, align, find the person she tries to be.
Maybe if you looked inside, coincide, you’d realize she is actually me.

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