Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

from the nest to a resting place

birds out of the nest.
your face was framed,
up on a wall,
far from home, you felt
hardly looked at, at all.
you remember that hard
cold fall, but now you know
it felt like nothing at all
compared to this new
gravity, that seems
to claw at your body
bringing it down,
bringing it down,
and down some more,
until it’s buried in
a new nest below the ground

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: nest

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