The Quiet Ones

We were the quiet ones,
Slunk against the wall,
Confetti like dead birds,
All around our feet,
Free to roam,
Yet caged to this wall,
We
Were just like the dead birds too,
Colorful like confetti,
A chaos of personalities,
Quieted  by the death,
The one moment we were freed,
We didn't know that you could fall,
Especially if you have wings,
So the dead bird confetti,
Is buried around our headstone feet,
Watching the live birds sing,
And dance and play,
And when these living birds,
Decide to make a visit,
And honor our graves,
Only for them to forget us,
When they soon fly away,
They ask us if we liked the dance,
The dance of this life,
But we are dead bird confetti,
With our wings clipped back,
So out of our forced quiet,
All  that we can say,
Is that oh yes, it was one great party.
 
 
 
 
 
 
-anna sluder
 


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