i wonder if morning birds understand the idea of morning birds

sometimes

broke and desperate,

the stinging pain at the pit of your stomach

the sound of crying in a park downtown
passed out on a bench somewhere
thousands of wandering eyes begging for answers to questions unknown
i wonder if those morning birds know us by name

whoever i was
those skeletons fight with swords.
but when youre alone and scared
it isnt me youre calling anymore...
brooklyn is just too impressive to you
now of days?
a reflection in water?

i dont know yet.