I found that caged birds don't sing
they squeal and squak unembarassingly
pigeons panic loudly
I am not a bird
the sliver of sun through the blackened window
hits my broken body, all welts and weakness
lights up the constellations on soft sacred skin
the stars spell out my secrets
and some days I am too tired to romanticize the locust
the blood sea
the revenge I live with now must be put bluntly
so I keep my mouth shut
keep my sharp tongue still
the darkness
it's raining frogs in my mind
and by that I mean I've been confused for a long time
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