The Little Bird

By Sarah P. K.

To look, to see her is to loath her

The mere thought, the mere memory of her strikes me with cruelty

Her diminutive eyes remind me of a bird eyes; souring, searching, staring.

Is there nothing her bleak taunting eyes cannot see or feel.

She sours through me reflecting a portion of her enraged anger upon me.

Away from me little bird! As I swat my arms in the air trying to rid myself of this annoyance the petite bird grins; a grin that shows her true darkness that consumes me with selfishness, greed, and envy.

I carry these repulsive feelings with me constantly always thinking of the little bird who will not stop pestering.

Can others see this cloud of darkness that surrounds me, pushing my temper, making me irritable. Do they not see this little bird is smothering me surrounding me in her own darkness that will consume everyone around her.

Be gone from my life little bird