The Wings and the Hungry.

Light rays freeze and break my windows.
Night screams breezes into my curtains.
Raindrops die crashing into my arms.
Clouds wail thunders for them.
Rainbows decorate the Earth’s coffin.
Leaves fall into abyss and the trees mourn,
rustling in the night, sheltering their dry souls.
Birds sing about their fragile hearts.
They shriek when they see me.
They don’t know how good I can be.
They drink the drops of poison in the weeds
instead of the water in my glass. 
They eat the decaying meat in the seemingly empty trunk
and not the bread I make for them.
They can’t see what I have been doing for them.
Tomorrow is another day.
They will come.
I love them all.
Besides, the traps and knives are getting rusty.

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