She wakes up to the sounds of birds chirping
But she can't hear them
Over the competing sounds
Of fiery rage.
She looks out her window
And sees a flock of birds atop a tree branch,
Trying with much effort,
To have their voices heard -
Their stories,
Told.
She's not phased by it, at all.
The poor birds haven't given up,
Unlike her.
She feels like a flightless bird
Watching
From the sidelines;
A hot mess.
Her body rises and falls
With each breath,
Sending her into a trance.
All the warning labels
Attached to her reality,
Have disappeared.
She's a fake,
Because she stands up for herself;
She's a realist,
Because people have shown her
They can't be trusted.
She wakes up from her trance
To the sounds of birds chirping,
And she can finally hear them sing
A happy song
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