deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Meal

The crows circle overhead
Famished for the feast below
They eye the battle's newly dead
And beady eyes begin to glow

They descend upon their meal
Grotesque bodies piled high
Survivors make them flit and reel
And craven crows rise to the sky

They marvel at the crazed violence
The result being this new repast
All is now well, within silence
A peace they know will never last.
Written by crowfly
Published
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