Broken

I’ve been preparing a manuscript to pitch at a writer’s conference and been remiss with my Friday Fictioneers submissions. I’ve missed reading all of yours and am not sure how many I’ll read this go-around so please forgive.

they’ll never fly, these little birds
they’ve been broken
piece by piece

colorful
yes
and they can sing
oh, yes
beautifully
when they need to
when they have to

but all the joy
has been wrenched
from their souls
stolen

the men around them laugh
and drink
take their pleasure
when they please

and the chicks cry
howl
plead

no one hears
no one sees
they turn their backs
as the little birds
crumble
one by one