The bird has flown and landed on the pain

With drops and drops

Of dripping, sliding, wet and frigid rain

That never stops

With its incessant tears against my glass

And water pours

To drown away the fire in Earthly mass,

The bloody sores.

The chirping bird has sung thunderous cries,

The flapping wings

And open beaks is me in deep disguise

While chirpers sing.

The bird now flaps and flies away so high,

To only crash, then break, then burn, then die.


Original Image

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