My soul is wet from the tears I won't cry, carved from my body by a Cuckoos beak. <br />You ask for redemption but I have nothing to give. <br />You ask for love but it has been swallowed, taken by the shadow of yesterday that's living in my nest. <br />They say death comes to those who wait, but the razors edge is too sharp for balancing. <br />The clucking fills my mind, 'jump' is what it screams. <br />People see me and sigh; they don't see the feathers, or the claws, or the worms. <br />I really wish they could see the worms.<br /><br />Rachel Rowley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cuckoos-nest/
