▲ 1 r/justpoetry
A lightbulbs facade of sunlight
As if wearing a fake mustache, an obviously fake disguise
But nobody points it out.
Perhaps the watchful eyes of the crows stare,
In reality they worry not about strangers.
Lightbulbs cannot sense the feeling of being watched...
its glow falters anyway.
The crows dare not fly too close,
For they know the pain of being burned.
Underneath this lightbulbs facade of sunlight,
Is dwindling lumination
Cursed with the knowledge of crows' hatred.
A selfish usage of space.
A putrid use of resources.
Fake..
Fake like the lightbulbs train of thought,
Unfounded.
The bile heavy as a feather,
Full of nothing.
The crows fly elsewhere,
Not a word spoken.
This is my first poem ive written
u/HealthyUsual198 — 4 days ago