O little bird, why dost thou flit so,
Filling the skies with they song of woe?

Knowest thou not that a storm doth come?
Hearest thou not the thunder’s celestial drum?

It thrashes and thrums with such terrible din,
Wresting away thy song as though t’was but a sin.

Fly, little bird, fly away swift and true,
‘Til the heavens are once again swathed only in blue.

I feel as though I am a caged bird,
Unable to speak nary a thought or a word.
I cannot fly away from my troubles,
As time moves on, my burden only doubles.
I was so happy before, but now sadness reigns,
Surprising how confusion and doubt can cause such pains.
I can choose to be free, and forever be sad,
Or remain in this cage, yet my heart will be glad.

Graceful as a bird on the wing
Opening its beak to sing;
Slender hands dancing to and fro,
Weaving gossamer threads of snow;
Eyes piercing as shards of ice,
Quick to name fate’s price;
Lips as dainty as a flower bud,
Red as the color of fresh blood;
Ears with slightly pointed tips,
Soft as velvet, yet sharp as whips;
A tiny little button nose,
Slender as the petals of a rose;
Hair as golden as a ray of sun,
Shining when the day is done;
I saw her amongst the golden trees,
But deaf ears fell upon my pleas,
And on fleeting feet she fled,
Back to her mossy forest bed.

One blustery night while I stood on my stoop,
I looked at the dark forest back behind the lonely chicken coop,
And from its deep depths I heard a strange sound,
Perhaps one of a creature that has yet to be found.

My insatiable curiosity overthrew my fear,
And against my will, my feet drew me near,
Closer and closer toward the ominous gloom,
That seemed to whisper to me of my impending doom.

I found myself standing upon the dark forest path,
Completely unaware of the beast within’s boiling wrath,
For all was forgotten in the midst of the tempest that blew,
Obliterating all the sense of direction that I ever knew.

I wandered lost among the gnarled and knotted vines,
Unable to see anything except the tree trunks’ ghostly outlines,
And in despair, I thought of the warm hearth awaiting me,
Longing to hear the cheerful whistling of my steaming *** of tea.

But my pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a footfall,
And a cold hand clamped over my mouth before I could call,
Its talons pressed deep into my neck, and my heart began to pound,
The fatal blow came, and my body slipped limp to the ground...