A Plea To the Magpies

Why do you sing, Macedonian songbirds? If I lend you my ear, will you lend me your words? If there is any semblance of joy, show me, You who suffer under the wrath of Calliope You thought it expedient to challenge the muses in song. But against their harmony you didn’t last long. And you the once beautiful sisters of nine, Were transformed into fowls with faces saturnine. And I quiver at what lurks in dimensions unknown. I fear the thought of the divine’s face shown. If rays of light reveal my pride, Tell me songbirds, in shadows does hope hide? My feet fit perfectly into Ulysses’ shoes. He who taunted the Cyclops when he sung the blues. And because the wayfarer thought himself great. His journey was extended so he could contemplate. For many have placed in me, their trust. And for my ego, I reduced them to dust. And when the time comes for my purgation. Accompany me songbirds with your supplication. I being a narcissist Incredibly flawed, With my actions will beckon the creator’s rod. And when in judgment the mallet falls, I will be confined to the wild’s protocols. Hear this, my forlorn plea, You who are the enemies of Calliope. Is there any reason for you to give thanks? For soon I will be joining your ranks.