Bird houses

To think I once used to believe in the significance of birds. The depth of their understanding the omens they brought to sight. I now look at sights that bring me to eagles, towards ravens, owls and hawks. Never was a lover of falcons and vultures yet I understood their level of importance in my life.

To each site a way of life was found. The meaning of each bird inside your life held the great significance.

Yeah I don't hold power to them anymore. Yet the places they go and are contained are continuous routine. I find the laughter in all of it. Sadly you would just call me crazy. Yet you have no understanding of my depth. And for that it made you okay to label people as such. What though of yourself?

Though my favorites were owls, ravens and hawks. They were always a wonder to me. Yet oh how silly I am to see a repeat of things already. I laugh.

Same age, same life like image. No changes are made in choices. It stands true how circles come to a close. No longer do I see pain. Just a hint of anger lingers and the shaking my head in disbelief of the constant roll followed.

Well down to irish grit. I say I am not surprised. Not ever seeing a surprise in sights. I just go back to recalling my heritage and seeing silliness.

I just hope for happiness when you finally find it. For it isn't where you are now. Not until you learn to like yourself.

But that is just my remembrance of you. Just faded memories as each passing day creases into night. I am just sad that you never grow.

Yet I cannot say a word. You know, my words matter not to you.