Tis a long read ___________________________________________________
Inspiration~ "But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing." ~ Maya Angelou ___________________________________________________
ᴛʜᴇ ʟ(ᴀ/ᴏ)ꜱᴛ ꜱɪɢʜ
When she sings aloud in a pitch too high Humans would cater nearby Witness her with growing joy Hear her chirp,with joyous plight.
For it's not the same,Not for her, Not in this silver rimmed cage. For she swam along the rimless sky Before she was tricked by a human hand.
Bleak her voice is,she realised Cried too hard, of solemn denies. But human ears felt no pain They heard the murmur, and made their child listen to them.
She did hide all salty waters behind her eyelids Continued singing with all probable symphonies She chirped a gospel of her life Highlighting the ironies of time.
Of a time she crashed among the winds And of a time she was hit by the bar of steel A time when her features coloured the achromic sky And of a time when her wings could barely move by.
Of a time when she took care of her kids,made nests and visited her relatives And of a time when she knew only men,their trades and business,she was homeless Of a time she danced on the lucid rains And of a time ,she received two bowls of water and grain in a day.
Her thoughts again clamping her The sight of the bars, triggering high pressure She shooks a bit and cries to hard Twas for the last time.
Her shrieking voice inaudible Her weary wings stagnant with fear Her teary eyes closing Fighting against the long lost memories.
Of the diving into sky Racing with the winds Making friends with clouds. Gossiping with the trees, thanking them by their adorning sweet chirping.
All lost in moment, All lost in a shrug All emotions void After singing the last sigh.
#monumentc Maybe not the Cinderella you wanted! But taged you because @writersbay this is a monument I tried to build in rememberance of the bird that was once free and now deceased for all those inhuman activities shower on it.
Let's be the visitors to the doorway of the palace which is waiting since ages for someone to feel it's lap and bring back it's life.
Let's walk through the hallway watching and imitating the paintings, that the people in paintings giggle at our imperfections and thank us for recalling them about their love, deserted. Then walk across each and every abandoned room and recite the poems for each other in a room lit by candles and bring the life back of the walls.
Let's listen to the classic, "The love is all around", while drinking black coffee and write each other letters and poems for there's such a tender and raw feeling attached in the act of handwritten letters. Then walk into the library and pick out books for each other and read those wine spilled golden books and fall in love with the elegance of words, feeling their essence. You know, the more we do it, the better we get to know each other. Not just our taste in books but also what our hearts speak and how we feel.
Let's then walk into the smaller hidden library and get pinned to a bookshelf by the academic rival, staring daggers at each other, restraint breaking and the book in our hand dropping with a thud as we both let impulse dominate instead of logic and reason. Let's bring back romanticism. I'm tired of trying to be rational. We all need love, ain't it? You don't necessarily need to admit that you love me. Let's secretly fall in love with each other with every passing minute but not admit it.
ik, this is never gonna happen, probably I have read too much of unrealistic romance or whatever but no matter what I keep coming back to you in my head though loving you was the most exquisite form of self distruction, I can't help but to distruct myself. #building#goldenc#bb_luvzu 10:00am 05.02.2021
The gold idol of God Sitting in his abode Sees everything Listens to every painful cry.
An innocent child Whose parents died. The martyred soldier Whose ailing mother cries. A powerful man Trying to change millions of lives. Another powerful man Trying to take those same lives. A tired father Sitting on his young son's grave With the regrets when He let his son choose Mother nature over his own life.
The gold idol of God Sits in his abode Sees everything Listens everything.