Black birds weave between the trees,
a mass of tangled wings,
blocking out the sun.
Cracked earth lies bellow
while on the doorstep cries a soul
whose splotchy, tear stained eyes
squint upward towards the sky,
striving for the light
while black birds swarm up high.
Her desperate, mournful screams
are lost beneath the wings,
beating through the air,
their cries are all she hears
as downward fall her tears.
Numb, she can’t feel the roughness
of the dirty bricks below.
she can’t feel the ach
of the gashes through her soul.
No, she can’t feel a thing
while the black birds beat up high
as they cover up the sky,
and she still lies, wanting to die,
broken and despised.

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