I always thought it weird
When you served the swans
Poisoned remains
Smiling so sincerely
Like the smile of a mother
To a newborn child
And yet they never learned
The virtue of mistrust
Over the taste of crumbs
Not evil, just weird

How is it that you speak
Of fate, justice, and pain
While drinking black tea
Beneath sun and plantation
How could you understand
What makes life worthwhile
Can't you see all of them
Are birds of your feather
And why do you bother
With counting the corpses

Did you hate them
When you ended their lives
Was it out of pity
For birds without wings
Were you miserable
At least for an instant
You must have been
What could be beautiful
About innocent lives
Being smoldered by cyanide

I don't hate you
I just want to know
How could you look at them
With a spark
In the gray of your eye
As if bewitched by a miracle
Even if they can't
Tell you that themselves
How could nothingness ever
Make the river more whole