with wings outstretched
the setting sun can turn a raven blue
feathers tangled in branches that cradle
after that fateful plunge from the sky
black claws let go
throw your head back and laugh
at the fly that eats your eyes
at the maggots in your belly
at the maggots in your belly
at the inevitable decay
birds are meant to stay in the sky
but we all are worms in the end.
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