Birds circled overhead

Cresting above me like a crown

A ceremony, a ritual

Awarding me for what I found

Oh, bow down for her

She in all her glory

The one who found nothing

Just the end of a story

Praise me for the dead ends

And the things I’ve borrowed

Praise me for the things I’ve lost

And the things I brought sorrow

Nothing, the queen of nothing

Just a dead thing herself

The vultures try to peck her

But her soul sits on a shelf

Nothing, just a patch of flesh

Constantly fighting off the birds reminders

Just a dead animal on the road

The world will never be kinder