Driftwood

Washed ashore,

It lay bare,

The driftwood. 

Flowing out from

The gushes of insanity. 

It sought solace,

In birds that sang 

Of life with grace. 

The driftwood, 

It didn't want to be seen 

But feathers find their melody.

In the beauty of a wreck, 

The driftwood. 

It lets the wet wild grass in,

To twirl hopes, 

Into its hollows.