The bluebird sings
And I cannot sleep,
One o’ clock in the morning I see,
That she sits on my windowsill and sings.
She sings a song of beauty,
She sings a song of love,
She sings a song of purity,
She sings a song of happiness.
I shoo it away,
So it may let me sleep,
So that I may dream,
So that I may count sheep.
The next night,
The bluebird sings,
Her song rings,
Both in my heart and my ears,
You can hear in the song only one thing
And that is fear.
She sits on my windowsill again and tells me the story
About the things she’s done and how she was sorry,
And how she needed to tell somebody.
She sings a song of fight,
She sings a song of trouble,
She sings a song of flight,
She sings a song of her and how everything is turning to rubble.
The next night I do not sleep again,
She revisits me and I have my notebook and paper in hand,
Prepared to listen and hear
Of her story of fear.
She comes to my windowsill and sings,
But I’m afraid of what she’s become,
No longer a bird but something more gruesome,
Her beady eyes glisten in the morning sun,
She tells her story ‘til the end of dawn,
As she sang to me her last song.
She sings a song of death,
Her mate was no longer there,
For she couldn’t handle him,
He had destroyed their nest,
She made him take a rest,
By pushing something sharp into his chest,
For she had become obsessed with another,
And no longer were they in love with each other.
She sang her song
Of wanting to be with me,
It lasted long,
All her cries and pleas,
But she was no longer beautiful to me,
She was a monster in disguise,
A monster and not a bird,
For I understood,
That she loved that I listened
To her beautiful songs,
But now everything has come out all wrong.
Her songs have turned upside down,
No longer any sweet sounds.
She sings of hate as she sings to me,
She sings of betrayed love ending unhappily,
She sings of death and fate,
She sings of not being able to concentrate,
She sings of justice and doing no wrongs.
“Songs of nothing,” she proclaimed,
That’s when I thought her to be insane.
I damned her from my sight,
Closed the window tight,
So that I may sleep in peace,
So that I may dream,
But she would knock on the door with her beak,
Not letting me enjoy my sleep.
It was her problem and not mine,
She knocks on the door and sings more lines,
But I do not listen and cover my ears
For I no longer want to hear.
She sees my rejection and sings her last song,
I cannot hear it, but only see her lips moving along,
I can only guess what she sang,
But it would not be the same.
I watched her sing,
But I didn’t hear anything
As she dropped herself from the windowsill,
Everything stood so still,
She froze herself and didn’t flap her wings,
No longer would she sing sweet melodies.
I lay there in the middle of the night,
Waiting for her knocks,
But she does not come.
I sing a song to myself,
Trying to put myself to sleep,
But the song is not the same as hers,
For mine was much worse.
I sing a song of sorrow and loss,
I sing a song of the hate and destruction in a home,
I sing a song of the brave and their costs,
I sing a song to put me to sleep,
I sing a song and begin to weep,
I sing a song nothing like hers,
I sing a song much, much worse.
I sing a song until dawn,
One that goes on and on
Of the story of the bluebird that sang beautiful songs,
But no longer was part of this world
Because, she was long gone.