I'm not a poet and don't I know it.

I'm working on a sci-fi story about a mutant on trial for a murder they may not have committed. It is a bit of writing-as-a-mental-health exercise that I am using to help unload a little bit of how I feel about some real life criminal injustice stories. Others may see it as exploitation, so I'm probably going to keep it private. It is currently 18,000+ words of mental health!

It is a heavy story, but I couldn't help but indulge in one moment of silliness and decided to share at least that. The hopelessness - and boredom - of the main character's situation leads to them trying poetry:

Three birds in a nest,

Living out a sad, sad jest,

Two birds can spread wings and fly,

Instead they hide and tap away.

Alone, one sits and sighs,

Hoping to see the sun again one day.

I didn't say they became a good poet! I know I never will be.