I feel like the buzzards,
Are picking my brain,
I want to move on,
But I want to refrain,
From pushing my mind,
Through perilous gaps,
I swear I’ve been picked,
To the point of collapse.
I feel like the serpents,
Are squeezing my chest,
I write and I write,
But I really need rest,
From triggers that writhe,
Till my patience has wrung,
They hiss and they lunge,
Till I’m finally stung.
I feel like a phoenix,
Just captured my foot,
I’m caught in its talons,
And covered in soot,
It screams from the ashes,
Its feathers besot,
I try to break free,
But the flames are too hot.
I feel like the buzzards,
Are picking my brain,
I want to digress,
Without going insane,
This need that I feel,
To be more than a sum,
I should have stayed put,
And just swallowed the rum.
© The Complicated Bunny – 29 Jan 2022
The Complicated Bunny 