A bird's nest is neatly folded,

sometimes it's getting nasty too,

but the poor mother has no time,

as it wanders from here to there.

It takes its flight when it needs a swing,

somewhere in the vast sky, it's

flying away, with its wings.

perhaps - if I had wings too.

What's the point of having those wings,

when it is just trapped with its soul,

in a cage, with a mere freedom

it's taking its breath seldom.

they say, your true beauty lies

when you kept as hostage, your

beauty won't get trashed, when

the evil eyes will wander off.

but they didn't know, how it is to be

stay hidden - my wings are faltering,

and I'm just watching a flight

of a bird again.

don't take a higher fly, you

will be bound to fall, but how

can you know without flying?

or it's just a chain to bind me in a plight.

Irony of fate - when it's flight for another,

It's the only plight for my state.

________

Wondering why these poems are getting dark?

Well, it's a combination of light and dark, neither is completed without one, another right?

Hence, can I ask for a little constructive feedback then? What is your perspective regarding my poetry style?