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.