Note: Just venting to the world, btw this is an old poem I made years ago. If you cry, it ain't my fault you have a soft heart like me.
Some people are strong, wise and can live happily,
But others are weak, sad, and were already betrayed.
Can emotions speak mentally? They do.
For they are never afraid.
I'm Happy to be with my friends.
But they had left as I change
A blue bird caught in a net,
Betrayal was never a thing,
When I had joined the flock.
Years of happy friendship,
Portrayed like a pretty ticking clock.
Then days past like years,
They had flown without I.
From my tears that never lied?
Two animals came to the bird,
Who was trapped in a silver cage.
"Why so sad?" Said both of them.
"I'm lonely." I said with no rage.
"Unconfident, Insecure, sadistic,
I feel dead, from words that they had said.
Slow, quiet and observant, that's what I am!
They want me to change, I did.
But they still don't like me for who I am!
'Too temperamental!' They would say
Not knowing of my heavy plate.
'You used to smile! Be what you usually are!'
Should I? When looking at my kin's grave?
If I were a cold mysterious blue,
They would be the blooming beautiful red.
They would stick to me when I think of them.
Even when crying, in the end."
The two strangers unlocked my cage
When I got up, to fly away,
They still had caught me.
I was scared for what they'll do,
Fear spreading in my heart.
"Don't be sad." One of them said.
"For they are blind, while you, are not."
I realised they put me in between each other,
A comfy hug, so warm, it seems.
"You are not alone," the other spoke.
"For we are here to set you free."
One was a cat, the other?
A bunny. Curiously, I asked.
"Why aren't you both fighting?"
But their tone was never mean.
"We are friends," Said the hare
"We do play in odd ways." The other purred.
"We may fight against each other,"
"But in the end, we both forgave"
As they had let me fly free.
We all enjoyed each other's company.
For we are friends in eternity.
Yet I wasn't in a happy ending,
It was all just a silly dream.
For I am still trapped inside this cage.
My 15-16 self is surprisingly a good and bad poet. If anyone wants to criticize feel free to do so while I get my blanket and my sweets to get better. Again.