The birds crowed a weeping melody, trees clean of leaves,

For their youngest hurled toward earth’s unforgiving crust.

The mother dove quickly into action, and a car’s tire screeched, yet

A deathly crunch scrambled and folded a plate of two servings.

The killings of man,the erasing of god’s sinful plan,

The birds hung unrested by their troubled hauntings.

The crickets crowed amongst the starkly night, begging for the end

Of mankind’s tactic toward those unfit to survive.

The girl with screaming eyes of vulnerability, flawed by good judgments,

Had long chased from tattooed skin and moral ambiguity.

They spoke, ‘a bitch, a swine, a slave to brutal love,’ and still

The same tragedy was failed by her victor’s glove.

The little boy, bounded by his mobile constraints,

Often faced series of wrapped knuckles and motherly contention.

A slit of warmth, a breath of water, or the crumbling of innards screamed

A way to end the love that long lived and fell astray.

For the life that lived unforgiving, innocence and purity nowhere found,

It long tarnished every bit of good that stuck around.

The hope, an unworthy state of feeling, in life that preserves,

Had dispersed from the immoralities of borrowed time.

A world so brutal, frozen to the touch,

Plunged all existence into bleak solitude.

And everything that once sounded a melody

Now rested without such a peep.