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  • Writer's pictureSai Soumya

Yellow Bird

My address reads,

"A house full of lies."

I live in a wonderland

Built on the foundations of things I tell myself.

I often believe in what happens in my head,

Like it is the sermon the minister reads out on Sunday mornings.

Lies, lies, lies

Oh! These empty lies.

Through the creek in the wall,

Entered a tiny lil' yellow bird.

Caught in the maze of lies,

But, Singing the tune of truth.

In the room,

Laid you and me.

You above,

And I below.

Heavenly feels,

Fathom, my mind, honestly couldn't.

So very close,

Yet so very far.

Wrapped in the sheets of lies.

You planted a kiss on my bosom,

And I wondered.

I wondered about the truth in it all.

I wondered about things I cannot even whisper.

I approached your lips,

Like a bee searching for a flower.

Ah! So Sweet like nectar.

The truth of the bee,

In the house of lies,

Hoping the yellow bird would after all survive.

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