Birds are mocking me,
Perched upon the branches of my thoughts
Along my stream of consciousness.
Calling and tweeting, they
Keep me awake at velvet hours
(The time they are the loudest).
They flew in one day, long ago.
They seem to have multiplied
As time passed by.
These birds have made a trade
Of their scrutiny and criticism,
Upon the subject of my brain.
To be honest, and I must,
If they didn’t exist, I would be listless
They are my little reminders
My personal critics
They irritate and admonish
But that only makes me flourish.
Elif Dedim is a hopeful journalism major. She’s been a confirmed bibliophile since the age of six and has recently discovered her love of writing.