a boring crow

oh dead bird,

HOW YOU’VE PLAYED WITH MY HEART!

shriveling, rotting, dying

ALL IN MY LONELY HANDS.

you have made me bereaved, my love–

DYING, AS SIMPLY AS THE CATBIRD

singing a melody

THAT IS AS TEASING, TAUNTING, GHASTLY,

as the coincidence leaving you nothing

but

DEAD

.

placing you in the wrong hands, i

TOOK MY LEAVE

oh catbird, how i’ve killed you!

YET YOU LAY AT THE SIDE OF THE ASPHALT

waiting patiently, just for me–

OH, CATBIRD, DO YOU LOVE ME?

as you keep coming to me, nothing

but

DEAD

.

flutter your wings as you cry, my dear,

I COULD NOT EVER RESPOND;

the ants feeding on you gave me heart

RENEWAL, TRANSFORMATION, A WARNING–

you hint, with your claws tugging on my ribs

MY PENSIVE THOUGHTS HANG ON YOUR ROTTING FORM—

does your life mean more to me than i had thought, more than your

BITTER REAPPEARANCE?

oh, catbird, 

ARE YOU A SIGN OF MORE TO COME?

or do you enjoy how my

DYING HANDS CRADLE YOUR DEATHLY FORM?

your sardonic mews amuse me, catbird,

YOU HAVE LEFT ME NOTHING

but

DEAD

time flies by

like the birds in the sky

in one direction it goes

and with everything else it flows

each step taken with caution

every passing second lost

and with every heartbeat past

when the robin sings his song

does he expect a response?

what does he do when he calls and calls

watchful eyes from the tree

wait patiently 'till he can feast

he flights down to the field of corn

only to be met with human scorn

intelligent, yet unappreciated

playful, yet rejected

tales of misfortune and death and rascality