They’re in my basement
next to the labelled ageing bottles
Regret, Guilt, Anxiety
Stuffed birds clawed in
through my two doors
I should’ve remembered to lock them
They’re still alive
ping pong pupils but the muscles don’t twitch
there’s glue smothering their feathers
Feed them with lies, they thrive on it
they digest the hope that one day
“I told you so,” will be echoed in the hallway
They hate you
because your skin is a lighter
and their feathers are thin
It’s cold down here
their claws left holes in my doors
I’ll never let them taste your warmth
We fly every day
and these birds will always be stuck
to a rotting wooden shelf. ✦
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