an untitled piece

March 5, 2018

Oh,
Apathy,
And how she sat with me
On the window sill.

 

“Please,
Come chat with me,”
She said
To the bird,
Who remained still.

 

We wonder,
Or I wonder
If she wonders,
If the bird flies happily.

 

Or does he not feel
At his own will?
Does he worry,
About his nest in the tree?
On top of the hill,
Or his baby?
Or an oil spill?

 

I gaze
Through Apathy,
As she captures me,
And upon glancing back at me,
She shatters me.

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© 2023 by MCLA Spires.