A Dying Bird

What was I? Perhaps a dying bird, Kicking the last breath Out of my breast. Lying there I liked the place Where I had dwelt. I was fluttering my wings. Oh my God! There was no pain as such. I was thirsty, So I needed little water There was a demon there Who wanted me to slaughter! He picked me up In his dirty hands, He broke up my wings And pulled up my hair in strands. I remembered my dad, I often remember him When the situation is bad. I cursed the demon But he never left me And clutched me even tighter. I couldn't resist my tears And heavily wept, The demon didn’t stop Till he completed his act. He left me in rugs With the soul as same. Suddenly the world looked dark And I hadn't had any shame. I stopped remembering dad now Because the idea seemed bad now, I wanted to hold my breath I wanted to close my eyes; I wanted to hug my death.