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The blood runs cold
All hope is gone
It breaks the mold
Ruined by machinery
They fly like a cloud
The murder descends
With caws so loud
But silent all the same
Ignoring the traffic
Filling their stomachs
Their meal so graphic
But theirs to eat
The wiser crows
Learning from their meal
Each one knows
Avoid oncoming cars
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YOU ARE READING
Falling Sparrows
PoetryTitles aren't everything They are useless summations Giving away the story Or creating false assumptions.... POETRY!! *throws this book at you* READ IT!!!!! This poetry belongs to me. I wrote it. It is mine. Read it. Now.
