Flightless bird

Today I'm in hiding, from nightmares
and harsh reality alike. I hide from the sun
and cover my head as the rain
steals my warmth. Mostly, I hide from her.

She seems pretty enough,
usually smiling and kind,
but underneath it all I don't like
the way she looks at me or the things
her eyes whisper. Trapped behind the glass
and herself like a caged sparrow
with a broken wing, I feel her lament.

She suffers through the days
and struggles the night as it threatens
to swallow her. When heavy lids wrestle
with shadows, darkness becomes
her home and she builds a ragged nest
made of feathers and tragedy,
using her tears as a mucilage.