A maggot feasts so deep within the core
Of sparrow hearts, it disappears from sight
And gouges out the grief, replaced by sore
Decay that wounds and scars the bird in flight.

In time the darkness spreads, a beak that leaks
Dull oil. The softness of her liquid eyes
Fragile and pure, is caged in gilt. She speaks
No more, a harsh and lonely screech that dies.

She stalks her prey and rips the soul from fools
Who dare to cross the boundary filled with tears,
And stores the sweet nothings away in pools
Of treacle, thick and festering with fear.

So broken and bruised, unable to sing,
Lovingly captured in a raven's wing.

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