Plucked Feathers 09/07/2015 23:37 On the floor of a yellow autumn and an abyss of depression I close my eyes and open my heart to say an empty confession They hear but never listen always ready to bring me down I rush out the door to find an escape out of town My dreams tend to be my escapade and my sedation My pillow, my blanket and my teddy bear seem to be my annihilation Bring me down and pluck my feather I will pick it up from the ground I fight the storms and kill the weather To end up with a defeaning voice and sound Hold my hands till the end faith Don't let me go now I wrap my bleeding wrists in an ivory swathe I will do what I have to do and don't question me how Last but not the least, the plucked wing can fly Fight for what you want because life is about do or die