Feathered messengers of death
Perch on twisted branches, in an endless chase Pecking at a heart, left to rot In the day's harsh and unforgiving light
With bloody wings, a grotesque sight Attempts to unlock the heart, in a deadly fight Pecking away, at its layers untold Till the heart is nothing, but a mold
The heart once beat, now it's but ash For these birds that peck, in a mindless rash Nothing left, but memories and scars Of love lost, amongst twisted boughs

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