The wild birds


There are places where the wild birds sing
Between dead flowers, nightmares, nothing
There are rusted cages, where hearts were kept
Some things can be paid, but never this debt
There are only bitter thorns
Where once roses were in bloom
The dreams of an eternity
Now intertwined with doom
There are rivers there
Filled with lovers lost souls
Drowning beneath the waves
Like broken paper dolls

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