Ugly bird, you see,
I'm too perceptive for these games,
you Seek.
I can tell in your eyes, within my demons' dream,
That you are many things to many people,
A wish, a woman, a genie, a lover, a slave,
And nothing ever to be possessed or,
To have value, nay,
only fleeting, like the wind, void of essence,
and so I made a decision, long ago,
To let your wind swirl around mine,
Coming and going like nature doth please,
Uncaringly gazing into a cruel,
Empty world.
Fault nothing of yourself,
Just my eyes that are seeing,
My mind that is thinking,
And my heart that has long since,
Stopped beating.